Ghost to Ghost
by Hot4Gerry
Summary: Sometimes from tragedy can come a renewal of faith and bring us love from unexpected places. Hearts may get broken but also they may mend. With the power of love anything is possible during the season of Christmas. Erik/OOC Read, enjoy and review.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: These twelve chapters will be very long. This is my annual twelve days of Christmas story. I'll post one chapter per day. Hopefully I'll get some reviews for my trouble. It is the time of goodwill toward man (woman) after all. **

**Chapter One**

**Malevolent Angel**

**Gabriella**

Oh my poor, poor Erik. For so long I have watched him suffer and could do little to ease his pain. I dared not let him know of me fearing what he might do. I could not bear it if he forced me to leave. Somehow I feel it is only Erik who can make me leave this opera house. I am tied to it just as he is perhaps more so.

In the opera house no one takes notice of me. I am insignificant. I leave them alone and they leave me to myself and my vigil over Erik. My only responsibilities as I see them is to aid everyone in any way I can such as finding lost ballet slippers, mending a rip in a costume the seamstress missed just before her tired eyes closed for the night. I don't have an official title but I like to refer to myself as a fixer. I fix things that are broken whether it be material things or human beings. I try to steer the staff and performers on the right path without being overly pushy. A nudge is better than an outright shove. I have even nudged my dear Erik a time or two. Not in any way he would know I interfered but in subtle ways. He is such a stubborn man who refuses to see any good in himself at all. It isn't his fault really as almost everyone he has met has treated him poorly.

I cannot help but feel all this recent mess can be laid directly at my door. I should have told someone what I knew. If I whispered in the ear of the right people all of this could have been avoided and my dear Erik would not have had to suffer such a public humiliation. I could do nothing about his growing love for Christine. Look what she did to poor Raoul de Chagny after only hearing her voice once after nearly twelve years. Her power stems from an innocent pure heart which I hate to admit but in my moments of fairness I can be honest about her. In my less charitable moments she is a seducer of men leading them into a pit of despair.

I like to see her as a bewitching harlot using both men for her own purposes. Nothing can be further from the truth. Oh maybe she did use Erik later as she grew into young adulthood but not in any deliberate or evil intentioned way. At some point she had to question some voice coming from behind mirrors and walls declaring they are the Angel of Music. I suppose it was easier to just leave things as they were and go with what worked. Why question something that seemed to give everyone what they wanted? Only later, after Erik revealed himself to be a man to her did it occur to Christine that Erik wanted more than she had been willing to give.

Oh she did love him and I suppose she still does. Erik can be quite persuasive when he takes the notion to sway rather than force someone to his will. I cannot find it in me to hate her so I try not to think of her at all. For nearly a month, at least I think it has been a month; I have traversed one tunnel after another killing time until I felt certain Erik would be less inclined to reject me. Once he gets to know me I am sure I can make him see how perfect we are for one another.

I am not the beauty Christine is but can hold my own. Having red hair I am also cursed with a dusting of freckles across my nose. Cute on a child of five or six but darned annoying when a person is trying to look like an adult instead of a young girl of five or six. I am twenty-four, I think. No, I am sure I am twenty-four. When is my birthday? Hmmm, well I cannot remember at present but that is something for a later date. The green eyes one might expect to see on an Irish red-haired maiden are sadly lacking in me. I am blessed with blue eyes that are so ordinary I wonder if God despaired giving me anything as alluring as green eyes to match my fiery red hair. Did he think I might become a siren and tempt men to an ill fated end? Erik is the only man I can see myself tempting to do anything. For that man I'd do the dance of the seven veils, in private of course.

Helplessly I had to stand by and watch as Erik wooed Christine. Poor wretched girl torn between her two loves while I am here willing to love Erik with my whole being. She never deserved anything he offered her. Silently I point the finger of shame at myself for thinking such an uncharitable thought. I must keep reminding myself it was not Christine's fault. Erik offered his all to her knowing he took a chance at being rejected and truly I think he expected to be all along. Everything got thrown back in his face in the end. For what she did to him she should be made to suffer at least one night of torment but some people are born under a bright star while others are cursed to live in a world of perpetual darkness. My Erik is one of those poor souls.

As for myself I am not sure where I fit in. I can't say I am particularly unhappy other than I am of little use to Erik at the moment. I am a little scatter brained at times, okay most of the time. Much of my past is a mystery. It is of little consequence so I never made any attempt to find any answers. I have my hands full with keeping Erik safe.

Sometimes I really would like to give Christine a slap just to wake her up. Her childlike outlook on life is what landed everyone in this mess. Chiding myself for thinking ill once again of Christine I walk aimlessly along my current chosen path.

I am procrastinating since I have made up my mind today is the day I find Erik. Not that he is lost to me. All I have to do is think of him and a picture comes into my head of where I may find him. It has always been this way. In the beginning I questioned this ability but time sort of muddied the waters on the issue and I do not wish to waste precious time wondering about my connection to him. I suppose I can use this ability to find anyone but only ever used it to locate my Erik.

As I have admitted before I try hard not to judge Christine too harshly but my sympathies are with Erik. Christine will go on and have her happy life with the wealthy aristocrat Raoul de Chagny while Erik will pine for his lost love and likely die from a broken heart. I won't have it. He must live. I don't know how I know it but there is something special Erik is meant to do and I mean to see he gets his chance for redemption.

In my very soul I know there is a kind and loving man buried beneath all the hate and anger that festers under the surface. Given half a chance he could have done so much and given the right opportunity he still can. I have made it my destiny to align my life with Erik's and guide him along the right path.

What can I do? All I can do is offer him what solace I can. I followed him when he left his lair that last time. I had to be certain he made it to safety before I left him to his own devices while I went back to helping any stragglers wandering in the smoky auditorium. The fumes had become toxic by that time.

This waiting for Erik to feel less hurt by his loss has seemed to be an eternity. It has taken all my courage but I managed to overcome my fears to let someone know of me. How can I help him if I am unwilling to let him know I am here, I have always been here? I don't recall when I first came to the opera house or under what circumstances I arrived. It seems as if I have always been here. In the end I deemed it better to let time heal him a little before I made my grand entrance.

I don't know if Erik occupied the opera house when I first came here or if I came and he came later. All I am certain of is that once I saw his shadowy form lurking about I had to follow him and learn as much about him as I could. At first I followed him out of bored curiosity. I don't sleep like normal people and neither does Erik. He doesn't eat properly which worries me. I myself can't remember eating but know I must do so. There are times when I believe I am fey or something. When I whisper in the ear of someone about to do something they will regret I know they hear me but they don't acknowledge me at all. I suppose I am beneath them. What would they want with a…whatever I am?

My one failure to win over someone walking the wrong path was Joseph Buquet. For some reason that man frightened me more than anyone I ever met. Just to hear his name caused a quaking in my belly that would nearly have me retching. I gave up on trying to influence him long ago. It shamed me when I hoped Erik would deal with him and even more so when Erik murdered him.

As far as I know my path and Joseph's never crossed so that we met face to face. I stayed as far away from him as possible. An emotion I can only describe as debilitating fear overtook me if he came too close to me. There were other men within the confines of the opera house taking advantage of the younger girls and even raping them but none could cause such sheer terror in me as that evil man could. Yes, I rejoiced silently when Erik choked the life out of that man even if it did blacken his soul. If Erik's soul bore a blemish, then mine is tar black as I knew what Erik had planned and let the plan unfold anyway. All I needed to do was hide that stupid rope. Erik could use his hands to strangle Joseph but that would have taken too much time. Erik would have had to abandon his plan to replace Piangi.

I don't bother to mark time. What use is time to me? I have no place to go and no way to get there if I did. It has been a long time since I even thought of life outside the opera house walls. In that respect I suppose Erik and I are similar although I know he has gone out before and did wallop Christine's carriage driver the day she wanted to visit her father's grave. If graveyards did not cause such unease in me I would have hidden in the back luggage compartment and done my best to persuade Erik to stop his insane pursuit of Christine. I would even have offered to help him win her like a normal man if he would have given me a chance. His will was too strong to be swayed by anything I had to say. My whispers in his ear as he slept went unheeded in this instance.

Erik came back from that trip in a foul mood. I left him to stew and curse for a few days. Now I wish I had not done so for I perhaps could have stopped the crazed plan he concocted to win Christine's favor. In the end all he succeeded in doing was humiliating himself and burning the opera house nearly to the ground.

Many times I have relived that night on the rooftop when Raoul and Christine sang of their love and pledged themselves to one another. It broke my heart to have to watch Erik's pain destroy what little sanity he had left. He could think only of having Christine at any cost. To watch as he picked up that forgotten rose he had given to her and watch it be trampled under the feet of the woman he desired above all others at first broke his heart then quickly that hurt changed to vengeful anger.

The night of Don Juan Triumphant's first and only performance I wanted to follow Erik down into the lower levels but chaos had broken out and people were in danger of being burned or trampled. Waylaying my usual shyness I took charge and led as many people out as I could. Those who chose to follow Erik were on their own. If they'd rather seek revenge instead of safety then let the consequences be on their heads. I did almost follow Meg so I could protect her but there were just too many people crushing against each other trying to find safe passage out of the black inferno building inside.

By the time I reached Erik's lair he was alone and suffering so much his pain became mine. As badly as I wanted to hold and comfort him I couldn't, not then. He would not have welcomed me. He still won't, not at first anyway. It will be up to me to convince him I mean him only good. I must wait for the timing to be right to let him know of me.

Sometimes I feel as if he knows I am there in the shadows watching his every move. I love to watch him especially when he is asleep. He looks so innocent when slumber overtakes him. When the urge to touch him overwhelms me I only graze my hand over him. His sigh sounds so much like one of pleasure I relive the experience over and over in my mind. I must make him see we are meant to be, I simply must. I think I shall fade away into nothingness if he rejects what I offer him. I don't think I'd want to exist if I knew I'd never have Erik for my own. My only reason for staying here is my love for him. I cannot desert him in his time of need.

Erik will be so angry that someone dares to approach him but I must stand strong. He needs me so much at the moment. The last few times I observed him he looked ill. This damp place isn't fit for…truthfully it is only fit for the vermin. Erik's drinking to excess is not conducive to clear reason either. Dulling his pain with drink has taken it's toll on his health. I have news that surely will lift his spirits.

I have heard conversations from people coming and going in the upper levels. Work to refurbish will commence shortly. The troubles in France are settling down. Not being one to watch a clock or calendar I have no idea how much time has passed since I overheard those conversations but surely it has not been long.

Worry over Erik's sanity and his health have filled most of my days. This period of grief has seemed to drag on longer than one would expect. Erik being the only object of my affections I cannot say how long a heart that has been battered will ache. The only comfort I could give Erik was during the times he gave in to sleep.

Weeping over him did not gain me or him a thing so I admonished myself and began giving him comfort by touch and singing lullabies to him. Sometimes I find myself singing music I don't recognize but must have heard somewhere. It is the kind of music Erik writes and what they used to sing on stage. I am not in Christine's league so will never let Erik hear me once I make myself known to him. I couldn't bear for him to compare me to Christine and find me wanting.

I do believe it is time to find Erik and confront him. No more procrastinating. The sooner we can put his anger behind us the better. As I said before I can find Erik any time I want. I can find him no matter how far down into the tunnels he travels. Our link must be such that we are connected within our souls. I like to believe that. I want that sort of connection with someone. For too long I have been on the outside looking in. I want to rejoin the world and it is with Erik I want to come back into the outside world.

The closer I get to Erik the more anxious I feel. Something is wrong, I can feel it. My steps are coming faster now. The sconces light as I approach each one. I have not questioned how they do this. I always assumed it was some trick of Erik's that had the sconces catching fire as someone approached them. Who else could do such a thing?

Finally I make the last turn into a tunnel that ends at a small cave like room. Erik is down on the bare stone floor struggling to breath. His body is coated with sweat soaking his shirt and trousers. This is all my fault. I should have come sooner. Curse me for being such a coward. Here Erik may be dying and I worried about him shouting at me. If anything should happen to him I…I don't know what I'd do. I suppose I would leave this world too.

Cautiously I lay my hand on his chest. At first I can feel nothing. Panic begins to set in then the warmth of his skin against mine warms my palm. He is so very hot, hotter than he should be. I must cool him down and get dry clothing on him. I feel an unaccustomed warmth flood my cheeks as I contemplate what removing his clothing entails. I am a virgin I am sure and can't recall having seen any naked males in my lifetime. I made sure to steer clear of the male dressing areas upstairs. The women's bare skin made me uncomfortable enough so I knew I didn't want to see any manly flesh.

Clothing won't be a problem as the dressing rooms are still intact as well as the costume department. The main fire damage centered around the stage and rows of seating. The lobby and grand staircase are gone as well. Whatever clothing I find will reek of smoke but that cannot be helped. This is my chance to show Erik how I feel about him. Helping him without any expectations of a reward will surely reveal how deeply I care for him.

It seems my feet have only begun to traverse the many tunnels and levels of storage cellars when I find myself standing in front of the door to the costume department. Long ago I gave up wondering how I could travel through so many miles of tunnels and not feel a bit winded. Sometimes it seems as if all I have to do is think of a place I wish to be and I am there. That is complete nonsense of course but it is a thought I have had often. My memory is such I cannot recall traveling from one place to another. I have yet to lose my way or fall into one of Erik's many traps. Some sixth sense lets me know of them. If I happened to fall into one of his many pits I don't think I would be afraid. I have no idea why I feel so confident in my safety but it is a fact I am aware of all the time.

Riffling through mounds of discarded costumes I manage to find a pair of trousers. Digging deeper in the pile I pull out a shirt that might be too large for Erik but at least it is dry and clean even if it smells of smoke. Before leaving I decide I may as well take several changes of clothes for Erik. Who knows how long he will need my loving hand taking care of him? I look at several gowns strewn around the room and some unfinished costumes draped across mannequins. Do I have a place where I get my own gowns? I don't recall any such place but I must have gowns of my own for I do not run around in the nude.

My lack of knowledge about myself is worrisome. Perhaps I hit my head at some point and lost parts of my memory. Not remembering such an injury does not disprove such a thing happening. It simply means I cannot remember the occasion. Shrugging my shoulders I grab my bundle tighter into my arms and head back to Erik. As before I hardly think of returning when I am soon stepping into the area where I last left Erik.

His condition appears to have worsened as now he is thrashing about. What will I do if he does me some injury in this state? We would both die before anyone came down here. Heedless of my own concerns I toss aside the clothing and kneel down beside Erik to lay my hand on his forehead. As soon as my palm rests on his burning flesh he quiets and stills. The coldness of my palm must feel like a cool breeze to his burning flesh.

"Christine, Angel, you have come back for me,' he croaks out. His poor throat must feel as if a fire has been lit inside of him. I am not pleased to be mistaken for Christine but that is not his fault. He is taken with delirium. Right about now I'd be happy to see Christine as she could soothe him surely even more than I am.

I don't like feeling ill towards the girl but it is hard when I know how much Erik cared, no, still cares for her. She is only a silly young girl barely out of the schoolroom. Erik should have known better but then his exposure to the opposite sex has always been limited. Once Christine grew into womanhood the inevitable happened. Whatever female Erik set his sights on the results would have been the same. His choice just happened to be a young girl fated to be reunited with her childhood sweetheart.

After Erik has been still for a few minutes I deem it safe to go wet some rags in the water. Later I shall have to see about getting a fire going so I can boil the water. It should be safe but with blood and God knows what else running into the drains all over Paris it is better to be safe than sorry.

Without conscious passing of time I accomplish everything I thought would make this place habitable for the two of us during his recovery. I am becoming quite skilled at finding just the objects I need to carry on with any set task. That talent came in handy when chaos ensued on opening nights. So many misplaced items causing so much upset, who knew how little things can become so important in the grand scheme of things? It was left to me to keep everyone on an even keel by finding all lost or misplaced items. Who else had the time or the ability I do? It helps that I know every nook and cranny of this grand establishment. However long I have been here it is long enough to have set foot on nearly every known inch of the place and some unknown places as well.

With everything nice and cozy all I have to do is wait for Erik to wake and then I think I shall find me a safe hiding place until I am certain he means me no harm. One can never tell about men possessed of such a mind as Erik's. Depending on how he is feeling I may be his savior or his tormentor. I hope he sees me as the former or else we will have a few rocky days ahead of us.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Sins of the Angel**

**Erik**

God is punishing me. I am sure of it and it is no less than I deserve. He teases me with the voice of an angel. I recognize something about it but cannot recall what it is. All I know for sure is that when I hear it the demons inside my head stop slugging away at my brain with their pickaxes. Those brief moments of relief when a cool softness brushes against the raging fire inside my skin is as close to heaven as I am likely to ever come.

My eyes are sore from the thousands of salty tears I have shed over losing my beloved Christine. Everything else is riddled with pain due I suspect to my lack of care for my body since that last horrendous night. I lost count of the days, weeks, months and years as well as the number of bottles of cheap wine I consumed along with the various other bottles of mind numbing alcohol I forced down my throat. Normally I only have an occasional glass of wine but with all that happened, my broken soul needed more than one medicinal glass. Perhaps I took things too far and now will pay the price.

As the pounding in my head begins again, louder than before, I find my mind seeking that comforting touch once more. I have hardly had the thought when I feel a soft hand brushing gently across my face, my whole face. If this wretched illness had not left me weak as a mewling kitten I could muster the energy to care. As it is the relief of the cooling touch has me ready to beg for the caress to never stop even if my curse is laid bare.

There are times when I lose myself in my nightmarish world of laughing crowds of people pointing their fingers at me, not the man I am now but the poor bewildered child I had been. I lash out trying to kill them as I never did when I actually lived the life of that boy. I want to be alone in my misery once more. I want to die in peace if one such as I can find peace.

No matter how many times I lash out at this person they keep coming back for more. Can't they understand I want to be alone with my pain? At least in spirit I do but my body denies such abandonment. When does the blasted woman sleep or do anything other than care for me? I know this unseen person is a woman for what man could touch another so tenderly or smell so nice while doing so? I never thought I cared for the scent of lilacs but now I find them quite pleasant. Roses are an anathema to me since they remind me of all I loved and lost.

I rail against this infirmity that has some slight woman heaving me up onto my feet so I can hobble to the chair in the corner with a chamber pot beneath it as I nearly pass out from the agony riffling through every nerve in my body. How humiliating it is to perform such personal functions while another person hovers in the background. If I did not fear being blinded permanently I'd rid myself of this bone of contention between body and soul. Infection has set in and in a damp environment such as I live in infection once it takes hold is hard to get rid of. Being left blind with all my other faults is not something I am willing to suffer. I'd rather die.

Cursing the stubborn wench does no good either. She only agrees with me that she is a terrible person and chastises me to find other words to describe her that are not profanity. Her chuckle maddened me when I told her profanity said much the same thing as other words only less politely. Cannot the feeble minded woman ever be insulted? It galls me that I am even too weak to strike out at her. If I had my strength she would quake in her shoes before me.

Trying to strain through the irritation in my eyes to see her only gives me a headache. I'd rather be stretched on a rack than admit that her voice is quite agreeable, more than agreeable. I am sure I have heard it before but cannot remember when or where. If she has been in the opera house for a long time, here is where our paths must have crossed. I am sure I would remember her though if we had met. Perhaps once I can see, her place in my opera house will click inside my mind.

Medicine of necessity has been one of my interests. I admire her creative salves to clean out the irritating ooze from my swollen eyes. I may snag a sample of it so I can duplicate the formula. As if she read my mind she begins to recite the ingredients and offers to write them down for me. Irritating interfering woman, oh what I'd do to her if I had my Punjab.

"Erik stop that this instant. You know very well you wish me no real harm. If I thought for one moment you were that man you like to show the world I'd leave you here to tend to yourself and take your chances," she speaks softly without pausing in tending to me. For all her bravado I sense a little doubt behind her brave words.

I hadn't thought I spoke aloud but I must have. I'll not apologize. I meant every word. When she sighs in irritation once again I feel I must have spoken aloud. I shall have to be more careful with my thoughts. I wouldn't want something important to slip such as where I keep the bulk of my wealth. Once I am well again I shall recover all I have saved and disappear like the ghost I claimed to be.

"Erik, Erik, Erik. You…Oh never mind. In time you will learn. For now just know I do everything for you with no expectations of anything in return," she declares seriously.

Despite her claim I feel she is holding something back, perhaps not a lie but a half-truth. Over time I have become an accomplished liar and manipulator so that I am able to recognize one when I see one. I am wise in the ways of such people and she will not charm me into lowering my guard. I will discover what her game is and expose her for the liar she is.

Every time I close my eyes in sleep I awake to a fresh set of clothing and a freshly washed body. I dare not let my mind imagine how this is accomplished. It is bad enough that my face is exposed without exposing the retched distorted flesh my jailors from the fair caused with the lash across my skin. I made that man pay for every scar I carry. I choked the life right out of him and would do it again with eagerness. That is one death I do not regret the other is Joseph Buquet. That man was pure evil. As a child I feared him and as a man I hated the very air he breathed.

Daily my strength returns so that after only a few days I am ready to scream if that woman touches me again. I am becoming too enamored of the gentle glide of her hand over me. I cannot let myself fall into the trap I did with Christine. My stupid weak willed heart is ready to grovel at the feet of the first person to show me kindness.

Madame Giry is the perfect example. I trusted her in ways I would not trust anyone else. She kept my secrets well for so long and then in one night betrayed me in such a hurtful manner that I may never trust again. Better to trust the ne'er–do–wells I pay for their loyalty than to rely on my judgment of human nature again. They used to call me Devil's Child and several less savory names and declared that I was not born of a human but from the loins of a minion of the devil himself. Sometimes I wonder if I should be flattered to be thought of as the Prince of Darkness.

"Erik, shame on you. Such thoughts should not even be allowed to formulate in your mind let alone have your admiration," she chastises me like a nun would a misbehaving child. Have I again lost control and spoken my innermost thoughts aloud? I am sure I have not.

"Keep out of my mind damn you. There are enough voices in there without adding your opinions on the matter. When are you ever going to leave me in peace?" I grumble halfheartedly. A part of me wants her company the other half wants to consign her to a fast train to hell.

"Erik, can you imagine me in hell? They'd boot me out after only a minute. You are a wicked man, that you are but I know the real you so don't try to push me away with your bad temper," she chuckles, actually chuckles. She isn't a bit afraid of me. That pleases me even while it annoys me. She is crazier than I am.

"If you must foist your company on me at least tell me your name and what your connection is to my opera house," I demand using my most hardened Phantom tone.

"Gabriella Star. Father admired the angel Gabriel and wanted a boy. Imagine his disappointment when I was the only child God saw fit to send to him and my mother. Poor man tried so hard not to let it matter but I knew it did. My connection to the opera house is much more complicated," she pauses to frown contemplating what to say next.

"Your opera house Erik? I do think the managers, Andre and Firmen, have something to say about that. After all it is their money being spent to refurbish the establishment. Wasn't it a miracle that Raoul de Chagny offered them financing at a reduced interest rate after such a great loss?" Her admiration for my enemy angers me. I do believe if I could see I'd smother her with a pillow or strangle her with my bare hands.

"Such violent tendencies will get you nothing Erik. Haven't you ever heard it is easier to tempt with sugar rather than vinegar?"

"Woman, I warn you as soon as I can see clearly you had best take to your heels. Haven't you heard about me? I am the murderous Phantom of the Opera, the wicked prankster the Opera Ghost. Trust me at your peril. Ask anyone who attended the last night's performance at L'Opéra Populaire," my breath is coming in harsh drags as my anger rises.

"I murdered. I destroyed beauty without any remorse. The blood of many is painted permanently on my hands. Place your trust in me and you dance with the devil," I issue the warning in all honesty as a reminder to the both of us just how blackened my soul truly is. I don't want another innocent girl's life placed in my wicked hands.

The imbecile places little value on her life as she wipes at my eyes with a warm cloth and comments objectively, "I do believe your eyes are returning to normal. This is merely my own opinion mind you but I do think your facial deformity has improved with daily cleansing using my ointments and letting the air help dry the sores. How uncomfortable the mask must be. I can understand somewhat why you wear it when in the company of others but why wear it when you are alone?"

My mask and my face are two subjects sure to raise my ire. Without thinking it through I strike out with my arm. I know I hit out where my tormentor sat beside me so how could I have missed hitting her? I am glad I did once my anger begins to subside but am puzzled as to how I could have missed hitting her. Am I more ill than even I knew?

"Well now, I hope you got that out of your system. You gave me such a fright Erik. Lucky for you I know you didn't mean it and I am the forgiving sort. Now that we have gotten the issue of your mask out of the way can we discuss this calmly?" she says from a distance of no more than a foot. Just where she had been when I struck out at her. Facts tell me one thing but results reveal another.

"I speak to no one about my face or my mask. If you knew me as well as you pretend you would know I speak to very few people and I am sure you are not among my closest friends," my sarcasm filters through my words.

"Just because I did not make myself known to you doesn't mean I haven't been around. I do regret not coming forward sooner but the past is the past. We can only go on from here. I am here now and intend to remain a part of your life. I can help you Erik. I can help in ways no one else can. It may take some time for you to trust me but I have plenty of time," she states with surety as if I have no say in the matter. At the moment she may have the upper hand as I cannot fend for myself but time will change that.

"I don't need you. I don't need anyone," I declare just so she knows I am not so easily won over by her care of me.

"Erik everyone needs someone or something we can share our hopes and dreams with. Most people find that in a lifetime companion others find it in a loyal pet. You Erik need someone whether or not you are willing to admit it. Isn't that why you pursued Christine?" The folly of mentioning Christine is quickly made known to her by my roar of anger and the lashing out of my hands in her direction. This time I do manage to grab her arm. Using her arm I pull her toward me. She falls down across my chest.

This expenditure of energy leaves me weak and unable to do anything else. It is maddening to let another see me so vulnerable. I have always been strong and commanding. One command from me and everyone scurried to do my bidding. Now I am held captive by my illness and a woman.

"Well now do you feel better? How many times must I repeat that violent actions get us nowhere?" again she uses that scolding tone I abhor.

Stubbornly I refuse to answer. I may be at her mercy but I don't have to like it or agree to it. From this moment on I will suffer in silence.

Day after day I find I am breaking my vow of silence. The blasted woman irritates me without even trying. My right eye is still giving me trouble. It has always been troubling to me. My sight in that eye is not as clear as it is in my left eye and never has been. At first I only see my captor through a blurry haze which clears as my sight improves. The image revealed to me is disturbingly familiar even though I cannot place her.

Her face is framed by outlandishly luscious red hair. No matter how tightly she pulls it back some strands loosen to sway enticingly with every movement she makes. In my wild fancy free moments they seem to beckon me to touch them. I find myself daydreaming about doing just that. I can almost feel the silkiness of each strand curling around my fingers. I still love Christine but I am a man not a block of wood. Put an attractive woman in front of me and I do respond even if I don't like it.

In my younger days I concluded having manly emotions and desires were useless to someone like me. Only when I fell in love with Christine did I believe I had a chance to gain a woman's admiration. I try not to think how young Christine is but my conscience plagues me wondering if I did any permanent damage to her. The grieving child she had been grew into a gullible young woman willing to believe in the nonsense I spouted about being the Angel of Music her father sent to help her along life's path. Having lost both mother and father the child had been ripe to listen to a voice speaking to her from the very air around her.

It may have been wrong of me to pin all my hopes and dreams on such an innocent girl but it felt like this would be my only chance to have everything I had been denied all my life. Was it so very wrong of me to want normalcy? Other men are not consigned to live in the bowels of the earth hidden from all humanity. Year by year I watched as other men less worthy of the gifts they received carelessly misuse them and this drove me to the very edge of sanity. It only took the arrival of Raoul de Chagny to push me over the edge. Not only a man of considerable presence he also bore a title while I only know I am Erik, just plain Erik. No titles, no family history.

There were times I really believed I had become a ghost. Madame Giry would ignore my notes after I committed some action she disagreed with. One display of my temper and she did not ignore me again. If I could do harm to the woman I think of as my savior is it any wonder I dealt so harshly with everyone else who I perceived as a threat or someone going against my dictates?

I haven't seen my caretaker all morning. I suppose since I am able to hobble to the facilities by myself I am well enough to leave alone. Tomorrow or the next day I must seek a more agreeable place to live. I know of several spots that would suit my purposes. As long as I am going to continue to live in this dark hole I may as well give myself a few luxuries such as a water closet with hot and cold running water. Gas from the opera house gas lines will provide all the fuel I need for lighting and heating my water.

I am ashamed when I think of what Christine must have thought of my humble home. What woman in their right mind would want to live down here and with someone looking as I do?

The name Gabriella dances around inside my head annoying me to distraction. Even when she is not present I feel her all around me and inside my mind. Where is the music that once filled my every waking moment that was not occupied by Christine? Not so much as a note has sounded which worries me. Music is all that I have to sustain me. It never left me before and always comforted me.

I did not know that the sounds inside my head were musical notes until I heard my first opera. It was on that evening of great revelation I knew I was not crazy but merely heard musical notes instead of voices telling me to do this or that like so many of the discarded people living in the outer edges of the tunnels. No one comes in as far as my domain. They are all too afraid of what I might do if they did. If they had but known it the worst I would have done was send them on their way with a full belly and some clean warm clothing, they may have joined me in making a better life than just existing. It is not them who bore the brunt of my wrath. My hatred is reserved for those who feel entitled to degrade those from less illustrious backgrounds and those who seek entertainment by degrading those less fortunate of circumstance or pleasing looks.

If I am honest my dislike of Raoul de Chagny had a firm footing already established on my list of hated enemies even before he came and stole Christine from me. I had heard of him through the managers and disliked him on principle. That he and I were rivals for Christine's affections only made my dislike all the more just as far as I was concerned.

Gabriella told me that those fools are daring to reopen my opera house without so much as a by-your-leave from me. If they imagine they can run things without the resident phantom and ghost I must disabuse them of that as soon as possible. I have enough funds to last a lifetime but see no reason I should not be compensated for my services.

I can hardly wait for Miss I Know Everything About You to return to find I am either already gone or about to leave. I'll bet she imagined me being at her mercy for some time to come. Well I will disabuse her of that fact at the first opportunity.

Packing my meager belongings takes me longer than it should. I refuse to let the idea form that I am lingering so I can confront her and have her ask where I shall be staying. I will no doubt tell her it is none of her business. Just because she leant me a helping hand it does not mean I am obliged to regal her with every aspect of my life. She is in for one big surprise when she returns. At the last minute I sit on my makeshift bed to await her return. I am only doing this so she will have no illusions about me. Like as not, this will be the last time I set eyes on Mademoiselle Gabriella Star.

**A/N: The countdown continues. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Give and Take**

**Gabriella**

Oh my Lord but I am tired. I feel drained and no wonder after all I accomplished. After finding the perfect place for Erik's new living quarters I then had to find furnishings and stock the kitchen with food. I don't recall the names of the men or how many I hired or what I paid them with but I must have done so as what had been bare stone walls this morning looked like a home anyone above might live in. I must have had another of my lost time moments. I do feel a weakness but not one that I feel requires food or sleep.

How those workers managed to get water and a flushing toilet down here I cannot imagine. All I know is one moment I despaired getting even a small portion of what needed to be done accomplished then as if by magic it was all done. I have these blackouts all the time. I'll set some difficult task then amazingly I'll come round and everything is done to my specifications. Afterward I feel very weak and disoriented and must take time to recuperate. I really must consider seeing a doctor soon. What if something is wrong with me and something happened to me just when Erik needs me the most? I must keep good health although I don't recall any illness befalling me.

Gathering what strength I do have I begin my walk back to Erik. I am in no hurry to return as I have yet to come up with a way to present my accomplishment to him and not insult him with my gift. He is such a touchy man when it comes to matters of pride. If he would leave a small portion of his pride at the door he might find it easier to relate to people. His "I am God" attitude did not work well for him. Look what happened because of it. There is no shame in needing a helping hand from others. It has been my experience that most of humanity wants to offer aid to fellow humans in need.

Charity is not an insult to manhood or womanhood. Most people need something from another at some time in their life. Whether it be monetary assistance or merely a friendly ear during times of stress. For too long Erik bore all life's adverse moments on his own. He would let no one get too close to him. It is understandable up to a point because of his past interactions with humanity but as he grew to maturity he should have come to the conclusion that not all people are the same. If he hadn't behaved like a madman and set himself up as someone to fear perhaps he might have found the life he sought without burning his home nearly to the ground.

Poor Madame Giry, I felt for her plight. Torn between the boy she saved and the girl entrusted to her by a dear friend. Meg suffered too. She had to share her mother at a time when she still grieved the loss of her own father.

If I am truthful no one in this situation is totally to blame for anything. Fate just dealt each of them a partial hand and when they came together things were set in motion that no one could have anticipated or stopped if they had. I like to blame Christine for most of what happened but honestly to place so much on a young innocent girl is wrong. Both Christine and Meg are sweet caring young women. I hate to admit it but if Erik had gone about pursuing Christine in a normal way he would have had a fair chance of winning her. Observing her with him I saw how enamored she had become. Sight unseen she started to relinquish a piece of her heart at a time to her unseen genius.

There is much to admire about Christine. Not only is she beautiful in appearance but her soul is pure as well. I never saw anything wicked in her. It is my own jealousy that is the culprit making me have unfavorable emotions toward her. I shall have to work twice as hard to overcome them especially since it is likely she will be returning to the opera house once it is close to reopening. No one mentioned anything to that affect but I know in my bones she is returning. Erik shall not hear of this from me anytime soon. He'll recover his health soon enough and begin skulking about listening in on private conversations. If I thought it would do any good I would tell him it is not polite to eavesdrop. Since he takes advice from no one my advice would fall on deaf ears.

It is my belief that I am like any other woman and find a little of the devil in a man attractive. Erik may have taken that portion to a higher degree than most but it still makes my blood warm imagining him climbing from rope to rope or jumping from catwalk to catwalk observing and awaiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and claim his lady love. Unfortunately I never figured in one of Erik's exploits. I believe he is like the rest of the employees and didn't see me. It is sad to think I left so little impression on anyone that they see right through me. It made it easier to go about my business but still it hurt my pride just the tiniest bit.

This walk has taken longer than it should. I have drug my feet long enough, time to face the music, so to speak. Oh if only Erik would play for me. I do so love to hear him play and when he sings I feel as if I float right toward the clouds. I am not sure if it was his music which I loved first or the man creating such heavenly sounds. Maybe, like Christine, he lured me with his voice and music then I fell for the man. All I know is once I discovered him I loved him, still love him.

As quiet as I am Erik hears me approaching and jumps to his feet to roar at me, "Where the hell have you been? I have been waiting for you to return for over two hours."

"Two hours, only two? Surely not. It must have been longer," I dare to argue with him wile digging my grave deeper. This thought gives me aneerie feeling and I shiver. Those magnificent green eyes are now flashing a storm cloud blue, one of those with lots of lightening and thunder on a sunny spring day.

"Erik I..." I am brought abruptly to silence by his next action.

He grabs hold of me and gives me a startled look as if he expected me to vanish right in front of him. I expected to be shoved unceremoniously down onto his makeshift bed but he guides me down settling me gently on the top cover. "No Mademoiselle you will listen. I am leaving and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Is that understood?"

"Well of course you want to leave and I've found the perfect place for you to go. It is not anywhere near your last home and a great deal larger. The acoustics are marvelous. When you play everyone shall hear your great compositions."

He looks rather deflated. Perhaps I have stolen his thunder by beating him to the punch about finding a new home. Wanting to deflect any temper that may come to the surface I offer consolingly, "Come and see. If you don't like it or find anything wrong it can be changed. After all it will be your home and you must find it comfortable."

Standing over me threateningly he pulls himself up to his full height to say belligerently, "I have no more need of you. I am capable of finding my own home if I am to indeed stay here. I haven't decided and no slip of a girl is going to make that decision for me."

"Oh I would never presume to do that Erik. I only wanted you to have a safe place to go while you decide what your future is. I had thought that with the opera house being restored and rumors of Christine's return you'd want to stay," I blurt out of desperation. Curse my wayward tongue.

"Christine, she will be returning after…after all that happened she is willing to return to her Angel of Music?" He turns away then turns back abruptly to shout triumphantly, "This means she does love me. She wants to return to her Angel, her teacher…her…her love."

He cannot know how deeply his words have wounded me. I have to struggle to hold on. I feel as if I may slip away into nothingness if I let go of my hope to win Erik's love. How can I compete with an Angel of Music? I want to chide him for how silly it was to call one another the Angel of Music. Childish really. How I want to be called such a childish name by him. Anything that shows we are more than just savior to the saved. If only he could see me, really see me, I know he would recognize that we are meant to be. I know it as sure as I breathe that I am the other half of him and he is the half that completes me.

"Erik have you forgotten she is with Raoul now? They could even be married. If she comes back it will be for the music only, not for you," I say this even though I know how much it will hurt him or enrage him enough to end my life. He must see things as they are.

He lashes out at me and miraculously he misses. His swing is short of the mark or I'd have felt the back of his hand for sure. Now he lunges toward me and I make no attempt to avoid him. I know the strength of his hands but can not feel any pain on my arms. The only discomfort I feel is an agony of the heart because he loves her so deeply still. It hasn't been so long since they parted so naturally his wounds are still new as is the love he feels for Christine.

Seeing my chance when he stops to take a breath I move cautiously forward and place my hand on his heaving chest. So much emotion over a woman who may not be giving him a thought disheartens me again but I must overcome it if I am to help him.

"Erik I know you still love her but you must know she loves Raoul even if a part of her heart is with you. How could she not love you? You filled so many nights with a soft soothing voice. If not for you she would have been so lonely. Without expecting anything other than the privilege to give a small child comfort you kept coming to her even while your own heart ached for someone to ease your pain," the painful but truthful words seem to spill out of me regardless of wishing I could take them back and leave them unspoken.

"Please don't do anything foolish Erik. If you approach her properly without any threats against her or Raoul perhaps she will be willing to see you. Her willingness to return does suggest she wants to see if her respected teacher is doing well," I try flattery to boost his lagging ego.

"No matter what her actions said during those last few weeks Erik you must know from…the way she kissed you that last time how she feels about you. Would she kiss someone she hated or did not wish to ever see again?" How I hate bringing back the image in my mind of their lips locked together. That portion of the night I had successfully driven out of my consciousness. Originally I had thought I only entered Erik's lair after the final confrontation now I know I saw it all, the whole heartbreaking scene.

"I…I am sorry if I…if I hurt you," he says with sincerity as he lifts my arms one at a time to inspect for any injuries. I must be tougher than I look for there isn't even an imprint of his fingers left to tell of his manhandling of me.

I cannot recall Erik ever saying he was sorry for anything he has done no matter if in his heart he did regret some misdeed. I feel privileged to be his first admitted regret for wrongful treatment. I would suffer the fires of hell for Erik and even if he doesn't know it now one day he will. I am persistent and I have all the time in the world. For some reason this does not comfort me but makes me feel maudlin.

Before I can even recall the gesture my hand is on his face cupping the disfigured and mangled flesh. He flinches away from my touch but does not strike out at me like he normally would. Progress, real progress. Letting my hand return to his face I use my fingers to follow every groove and hollow as well as burning on my memory every ridge and pucker of skin. Daring further I tangle my fingers in the mess of hair hanging around his face. I know Erik to be one of the most fastidious people I have ever met. That says a lot for someone raised in an animal cage then left to live a life surrounded by darkness until he brought in his own light.

As I run my hand back over his scalp I feel the stubble of new growth. Washing his hair with my special soaps must have rejuvenated the hair follicles. How handsome Erik is and how devastating he would have been if he had been blessed with a perfect face. Perhaps he would have been one of those men who use and abuse women just because they can. Maybe God decided at the last minute that no one should be that perfect and placed a flaw on Erik's face.

I want for Erik to have all life has to offer and hope it is with me he will share them but if it is to be with someone else I will do all in my power to make it happen. Slowly I drag my hand across the sparse stubble. I wish I had been able to shave Erik. To me shaving a man is somehow more intimate than making love. A lot of trust must be placed in the person wielding the blade. To have Erik trust me to that level would be heavenly. As always when I touch him I feel a surge of energy traveling along every nerve ending.

Only when I have removed my hand completely away and taken a step back do I realize Erik's eyes are shut and there is such a look of peace about him I hate to spoil the moment but I must show him where he will be staying assuming he doesn't let his pride stand in his way.

Taking his hand I say gently so as not to startle him, "Come Erik, let me show you the place I have created just for you." I cannot keep the pride from my voice and really I do not try. I am proud of it. If I had a home of my own I would furnish it exactly as I did Erik's gift home from me.

Without protest Erik allows me to lead him behind me. Soon he is keeping step with me. I imagine his steps are being shortened so as not to outdistance me. His legs are so much longer than mine. What a tall man he is. Well over what is considered the average height. I feel so small and protected with him beside me despite knowing he could crush me between his hands and at some point may try to do just that again.

I made sure to light all the wall sconces so Erik's first sight of his home would be favorable. No darkness anywhere. I had debated adding a front to the abode but that would defeat the open air feeling of the place. I even managed to scrounge up a boat from somewhere. I cannot recall where. We came through the tunnels but some places in the opera house are easier to access by using the waterways. That route is much easier for hauling larger loads from one place to another. Perhaps that is how my workers, that I cannot remember clearly, have gotten everything I had on my list placed just as and where I wanted it.

Some day soon I will have Erik pole the boat while I sit and listen to him sing to me just as he did Christine. If my daydreams make me petty well so what? Am I not allowed my jealous fantasies?

As we make that final turn at the last tunnel I push the lever to open the panel Erik installed years ago as a safety exit from this dead end tunnel. I hold my breath waiting for him to make a comment as soon as he has taken everything in.

Silently he walks around touching a lamp here, a picture there or a book aligned with many other books on the shelf. I cannot tell by his face what he feels for nothing is given away by his expression. When he comes to the table displaying an array of masks he pauses longer than he did while viewing anything else. He picks up the white leather mask carefully as if fearful it might break. The only evidence that he is moved emotionally is the shaking of his hands holding the mask.

As he raises it to his face I feel this is the moment I should leave him. He would not want anyone to witness such a personal thing as replacing his mask. I could have just dismissed the masks but know he would only find something to fashion one himself. He is not yet ready to believe anyone can stand to see his face without disgust or fear. I have neither and I know for certain Christine didn't either. Her fear steamed from his anger and violent actions. To a lesser degree Madame Giry and her daughter have feelings for Erik. Meg has seen him as some poor mistreated hermit needing someone to show him love. Of everyone in the opera house perhaps she is the closest, other than me, to understanding Erik's true desires.

I'll leave him be and await the time I feel he is ready to see me again. He may look for me right away but I too can play the ghost and disappear when convenient. I am a good judge of Erik's moods and he will need time to adjust to having someone willing to provide for him without asking anything in return. If I let him find me too soon he may start to think I am plotting to win him over for some nefarious reason of my own. After all he is an assassin and wanted criminal. If someone needed such a person it would be to their advantage to placate him. I only want Erik, every flawed and wonderful part of him.

**A/N: Is it feeling like Christmas yet?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Suspicion**

**Erik**

Damn it, where is that little vixen? No one has ever been able to hide from me in my own opera house. There isn't so much as a footprint in the dirt floor of the tunnels. I have gone to all my secret mirrors, panels and listening places and have heard not one mention of a beautiful red haired woman working and living in the opera house. No mention has been made of one even working here and living outside the confines of this building. Gabriella is not someone any red-blooded Frenchman would miss.

I cannot find a single thing to prove I have not been hallucinating and imagined the last week of care from an unknown angel of mercy. I recall every word of our conversations one-sided as they may have been at times, so unless I imagined those as well the woman is real. As real as I am. She had left me as silently as a ghost when last we were together. I am grateful for her understanding about my need for privacy in such a delicate matter as my face and mask. Even so it galls me to give her that small credtit for her kindness. I will not say I miss her, not in the least. I do miss her cooking as I am an atrocious cook.

On one of my daily vigils trying to ferret out the illusive Mademoiselle Star I happen upon a voice I know so well. Madame Giry. The slight lift to my heart becomes a pounding hammer when I hear the timid angelic reply of my own angel, Christine.

"Madame Giry of course I feel safe here. Why wouldn't I? I have you and Raoul to watch over me. You did say you thought he was…that my… that the Angel in Hell lived no more," she says with emotion. Christine shows real sadness to think I am gone but I do not care for her to call me the Angel in Hell even if it is a name I branded on my own head as I sent her away from me.

"Oh Raoul I am so happy, so very happy to be back despite all that went on before. This is where I belong, where I come truly alive," she says filling my heart with joy. It gladdens my heart that she still thinks of this place so reverently.

"I know my love which is why I could not keep you away once the news spread of the reopening. I too miss hearing you sing as you did when you were on the stage. I know what it means to you for your voice to sing out so others may share in the joy of the music. I myself have been blessed with many such hours listening blissfully as you sing," he pauses and I imagine him placing a kiss upon her hand or cheek. It hurts so much to be so close to her and not speak to her or even touch her. I must let her know I am still here, I will always be here, for her I will always be here.

"Despite worry about 'Him' I agreed to this venture. I shall not sleep a wink until we are certain we are free of that man permanently," Raoul's hated voice breaks into my euphoric moment once again.

"Oh but Raoul Maman assured us he…he is not here or he is…is dead," Christine's voice sounds as if she is tearful. Are her tears for me? Would it disturb her to know I am dead?

"Christine the only reassurance I can give is that he did not come to my apartment and strangle me in my sleep after betraying him to Raoul. Knowing him as I did revenge would have been paramount during his hour of pain," Madame Giry states with certainty.

Did the woman know me so little? Did she not realize that losing Christine would be my greatest agony? Losing everything else I could have happily lived on if Christine had been by my side. Anger against Raoul and the whole situation pushes me to ready myself to burst through the panel and deal with Raoul once and for all so I may claim Christine for my own. Just as I am about to shoulder my way into the room a gentle shaft of air breezes by my ear carrying what I am sure are the words 'Erik don't'. If I am not mistaken the voice is Gabriella's. Damn the woman. Even when she is not here she is here. She finds a way to meddle in my business. I glance over my shoulder just to be certain I am indeed alone. That woman has the infuriating ability to sneak up on me. It was fine when I used my own stealth on everyone under my control but I'll be damned if I'll stand for someone, a woman no less, taking me by surprise. Inside my mind I hear a soft chiding voice admonishing me for cursing so much. For no apparent reason my cheeks flood with color and I feel shame such as a schoolboy caught being naughty might feel.

I am so taken with being infuriated at Gabriella that when I return to my home her presence takes me by surprise. She looks the same and yet there is something off about her. Can a person look dim? Not as in dimwitted but as in less… bright, as if they had a light shining on them that suddenly got extinguished. She still looks as beautiful as before just…I cannot explain the difference adequately.

"Where the he…Where have you been? I have been looking for you all week?" amending my words does not go unnoticed by her and her little secretive smile is not missed by me.

"Oh I've been around. This place doesn't run itself you know. Someone had to be on hand in case blood was shed. You are not known for holding back Erik. I am glad you conquered your less civil tendencies," she speaks to me but is walking around moving objects I have moved from one place to another during my bouts of pacing. She picks up a discarded shirt I carelessly tossed to the floor after spilling ink on it. This straightening and cleaning feels like what I imagine domesticity would feel like if I had a wife. The idea does not displease me especially as it is her who is flitting around in the domestic scene inside my mind. Should not this woman be Christine?

To be perfectly honest I cannot say that I ever saw Christine as anything beyond sharing my music and lending her angelic voice to make my song take flight. Through her I would let the world hear what otherworldly notes play inside my mind. Our great love of music is what I thought bound us together. In secondary fantasies I imagined her sharing other things with me, things I am embarrassed to recall as I have a feeling my new savior can get inside my mind. As crazy as that sounds I do believe it to be true. She has the uncanny ability to know what I am thinking and what I need. She even senses my moods.

Since Christine has returned it must be fated for us to be as one joined in our musical world. This nonsense flitting around now is only in response to Gabriella offering me so much when others offered me nothing.

"Erik, I have been thinking and it occurred to me that you would need someone to act as your go-between once more. It cannot be Madame Giry even if she would agree. It wouldn't be fair to put her in jeopardy again, not while I am here willing and able to perform the duties once ascribed to her," is that actual pleading hidden beneath her words? What sane person would attach themselves to me willingly? Not trusting her sanity it is best I rid myself of this unnecessary encumbrance.

Stepping nearer to her I begin to circle around her as if sizing her up to see just how delectable she might be. I had witnessed Buquet do the same thing to many poor young women. He subdued many a young girl by fear alone. He did not care for my interference on those occasions. I am sure Gabriella is well aware that there is no one to come to her rescue should I take it into my head to have my way with her. Not in all my years of deprivation did I consider taking a woman by force but she doesn't need to know that.

This game stirs me in ways I have not felt in a long time. Reaching out, I run the back side of my finger down her cheek. It is so soft and warm, not as warm as Christine's or even my less cool flesh but that could be due to exposure to the constant coolness down here. Standing directly in front of her I move closer expecting her to protest and to move back but she does not. Lifting her chin with my fist I look into her eyes using the full force of my persona to cast fear toward her. Steadily she returns my gaze. Her lips part and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip in a disturbing manner. It is all I can do to keep my breathing at a normal pace when my lungs are demanding more air because of the hammering of my heart.

My game has backfired on me. It is I who am now afraid. Anger replaces my fear in a defensive move. Wrapping my fingers around her neck I squeeze just enough that she should feel panic. Contrarily she remains unperturbed. I tighten my grip even more, still with no result. Is the woman so addle minded she is incapable of fear? Only someone skirting around the edges of insanity could bear to be in my company the way this woman has without showing some signs of battle scars. Even Madame Giry jumped nervously whenever I made my visits to her rooms upstairs.

I cannot murder the woman and cannot let her think she has won. I will not appear weak in front of her. Using my other hand I encircle her neck using both hands. I exert just enough pressure to block her airway only a little. I don't want her to pass out. I only want her to know it is I who am in charge, not her.

Disturbingly she places her own two hands over mine, not to pull away my punishing grip but merely covers mine with hers. Gradually as our eyes lock in a silent duel I feel all my muscles relaxing. A calming sensation floats through me. It is as if a cleansing breeze has gone through me removing all the negative energy.

Without my knowledge my hands turn to caressing her face instead of half throttling her as had been my intention. When I last held Christine this close it had been on the night I abducted her the first time. Even when she kissed me I did not touch her. I think by that time I knew if I laid my hands on her I would not be able to let her go. It had been hard enough after experiencing the taste of her kiss twice in the blink of an eye. I still feel the softness of her mouth on mine. Maybe I always shall or if God wills it I may win her and share many such intimacies with her.

Against my will I lower my head so that my lips are hovering mere inches from Gabriella's. I can feel the warmth of her breath flowing past my cheek as I am sure she can feel the hurried blasts of my sexual response to her. Her eyes are dragging me in so that I feel as if I may drown within the murky blue depths. Some part of me that feels this is wrong gives me the ability to clear my head enough that I can string two thoughts together.

Hastily I push her away from me. It is not anger that has me desperate to remove her from my clutches or contempt. It is male appreciation and sexual tension that I must fight against just now. Later anger toward her may return as well as contempt for me because I cannot control my basic instincts toward another woman even while I know Christine is not so far away.

Turning away from her in the hope of keeping my true emotions from her I force false anger into my voice as I say, "Leave now if you know what is good for you. Stay and I cannot be held responsible for what may happen."

Silence is all I hear for several ticks of the clock then she says from a distance much to close for my comfort, "Alright Erik, have it your way. Don't imagine I will not be back. I do not frighten so easily as that. We both know if you wished to harm me nothing would stop you not even your newly formed conscience."

Relief floods through me when I hear the tap of her shoes heading away from me toward the panel in the wall. Dread returns when they suddenly stop. Is the woman testing my conviction not to strangle her?

"I left supper warming in the oven. Be sure to take it out in a few minutes or it will not be as tasty as it should be. Apple pie and some cheese are in the wall cooler. If that doesn't suit you I also left some grapes all washed and ready to savor," cheerily she says as if I have not just tried to murder her or worse make use of her for physical release. I turn around to tell her in so many words I do not need her culinary talents only to find she has vanished. I swear the woman disappears and appears quicker than I do and I have been doing that for many years.

I may have to put a bell on Gabriella if this trend continues. She is gone but still I hear a tinkle of laughter resounding around my home. If this continues I truly will go mad. My memory of how and when I saw her is returning gradually. I do recall seeing her around the opera house but for some reason I have blocked it all out. I couldn't have done her any harm or else she would not readily help me now.

Murdering an innocent is the only thing I can think of terrible enough for me to erase her entire existence from my mind. As God is my witness I swear I would not harm any woman on purpose. I respect women. A quick flash of Carlotta and some of the egregious actions I took against her reminds me that at least one woman earned my wrath. Perhaps another did as well and I retaliated with extreme measures. I feel strange just imaging me doing anything violent with real intent against Gabriella. Everything I have done thus far has been to frighten her only or to drive her away. I don't think I could live with myself if I did hurt her. If I did then why does she not hate me? Is she more ill than I thought? Has her mind been warped by me?

This is a puzzle I must solve. The records are archived in the opera house library and the manager's office. It will take a good number of hours working steadily to wade through all those papers. Tackling the stacks of newspapers alone will be a Herculean feat.

The first order of business is to find out when Christine will be coming back. Even with renovations going on they can hold auditions and rehearsals in the practice rooms. This time I shall not do anything to frighten her. I will present my case with a clear head. Offering my assistance to train her voice once more will go a long way in winning Christine's trust. I always could lure her with my music and my voice.

I'll shed myself of my self-professed savior then set all my talents and energies on winning Christine's affections. Gabriella has said Christine already had some feelings of love for me. All I need to do is build on those tender emotions. I will woe her with my music once more. Already I hear sweet notes of temptation ringing inside my mind. This time the Phantom, nay, Erik, will be the one to ride off with the prize.

**A/N: Many thanks to all who leave a review. Can't have money so I'll take the reviews. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Hearts May Break**

**Gabriella**

I am a glutton for punishment is all that I can say about Erik and his continued blind spot where Christine is concerned. If I wasn't mad crazy in love with him I would leave him to his own devices. I must have been having one of my spells or somwthing when I thought I'd be able to help Erik win Christine without a few qualms.

When he spied on Madame Giry and Christine I wanted to brain him with a very heavy object. I hadn't let him see me but I could not let him test his resolve in that way without making sure I was close enough to whisper in the man's ear. I must have succeeded as the foolish man did not burst into Madame's private quarters and steal his beloved diva away. Erik is quite handy with ropes and knives but sword fighting is not something he studied with any great interest. He preferred to be farther away from his intended victim. Knives can be thrown, ropes can be hidden in a trap but a sword is more a one on one combat weapon. As I said I came very close to braining my beloved.

It has been nearly a week and I have left Erik alone to think about his actions. I hope he gives a few moments to think of me. Today is the day I will approach Madame for a position in the opera house. One that will give me greater access to Christine. I will need a little more prestige than a Jill of all trades. Purposefully I walked down the hallway toward the office of the new acting manager, Madame Giry. It appears the former two had a lapse in courage and took themselves off on an extended holiday leaving Madame Giry in charge. Better for me and much better for Erik.

Coming to a stop at the door I will myself to raise my hand and knock. Inside my head there is a continuous recitation of the words "Let her see me, let her see me". When I am with Erik or by myself I feel confident and strong but faced with interacting with anyone else sets my nerves on edge. I feel so uneasy contemplating speaking to someone other than Erik. With him I haven't ever felt invisible unless I wanted it to be so. When I was ready to let him know of me he saw me right away. How well I remember his hands on my face tenderly caressing my cheeks. I'd rather forget how they also tried to throttle me although strangely I could not tell the difference.

As hard as I looked for any permanent damage Erik left not one telltale mark on me. My flesh must be more resilient than I knew. I cannot recall suffering so much as a scratch throughout my whole existence in the opera house not even the night of the fire my skin did not blister like so many less fortunate souls. At least no one lost their life that night other than…well I'd just as soon forget the one man as the other. My skin is crawling just because his name almost slipped into my consciousness. He is dead and buried and will remain so.

Tentatively I knock on the door. Pressing my ear on the wooden panel I hear nothing. It is too thick to hear anything unless someone raises their voice. This thought no sooner enters my head when I hear a feminine voice bidding me to come in. Nerves are causing my stomach to lurch in a very unpleasant manner. Gripping the knob I find I am unable to turn the blasted thing. I feel so odd, as if I were fading away.

A mental shout directed at my cowardly side is enough to give me renewed fortitude and the door opens. Relief is quickly replaced with anxiousness. What if I am so timid I cannot speak? Erik's face flashing before me is all the incentive I need to carry on regardless of my own timidity.

Madame Giry has her back to me glancing through a stack of papers. From this distance I cannot see what they are but I know they are answers to letters that were sent out inquiring about certain students, performers and staff members situations and if they might like to return to L'Opéra Populaire.

I open my mouth to speak but before I can speak I am stopped with my mouth open ready to state my case as Madame Giry declares, "This had better be important. There is so much to do before we are ready to open and I have less than six months to fill over a thousand positions and begin rehearsals and that is after choosing which opera will be performed."

"Well then I am here just in time. I have come to present myself for employment," I manage to spill out the words despite my nervousness to be in the presence of someone other than Erik. Has it really been so long since I interacted with another human being? I knew I avoided most people but had thought I did speak to at least a few people although I cannot recall anyone specifically.

Madame Giry turns to face me and the look on her face is puzzling. She appears to be surprised to see me. Then her brow furrows in deep thought. Looking me up and down I almost feel like fidgeting under her concentrated regard.

"I feel as if I should know you. Have we met? Did you work here at the opera house?" she fires off her questions not giving me a chance to answer. Indeed how should I answer? Would it not be best if I come with a clean slate? Besides in my former capacity I could not get close to Christine and I must if I am to sort out what exactly she does feel for Erik.

"No I don't believe we have met," a truth if only half the truth. We did not meet directly but I saw her around and she must have seen me for I have been here at the opera house for…for…how many years has it been? Searching my memory the number twenty comes to mind. This cannot be so as I am only twenty-four. Trying to hold onto scenes flashing inside my head makes me feel strange. A younger version of Erik is mixed with other people who I know worked here are moving quickly so they seem to actually be a moving picture. Panic is beginning to take hold of me and I do not know why.

Still she is looking at me quizzically but lets the matter drop to ask, "So what is it I can do for you?"

"I am here to apply for a position. I heard that the opera would be reopening and would like to secure myself employment," I say as if I knew nothing about what happened a mere few months ago.

"Well we will certainly be needing plenty of workers and performers as well as new students if we are to flourish. So, tell me, what position do you wish to apply for today?" she folds her hands waiting for me to reply.

Without thought I say, "I wish to audition for the chorus or perhaps an understudy for one of the principal performers if I prove myself to be good enough."

Well I have certainly put myself in an awkward position. I do not even know if I can sing good enough to meet such exalted standards as Madame Giry and Erik, for I know he will have a hand in who sings and who does not. Again pictures are flashing inside my mind of me singing on the stage as it was before Erik set fire to it.

I cannot have been a singer here for Madame would surely know me. Everyone would have shown me greater respect than they did if I held one of the coveted positions in an opera being performed here. As it is no one acknowledges me unless I step right in front of them and demand they see me like I did with Erik and Madame.

A feeling of dread is washing over me and my instincts to run and hide are not easily dismissed. I must do this for Erik and my belief in our destiny to be together.

"Can you be ready to audition tomorrow? There will be several others here as well. Perhaps you have heard of our former diva Christine Daaé?" Is it my imagination that she has lowered her voice and cast a quick glance around? Does she feel Erik watching us as I do? It is my connection with him that has kept my feet from taking me away from here.

"Yes I have heard of her but have not met her as of yet and yes I will be here. Until tomorrow then," I say as she turns away to pick up something from her desk. I cannot stay any longer. The urge to leave is unshakeable. One second I am in her office then the next I am running down one of the tunnels with no clue how I got here or where I am going. All I know for sure is, I have to get away from the cloying feeling that I am suffocating and feel pressure on my body as if I am covered in something heavy and immoveable. I recall having this familiar sensation but have always believed it was just part of some leftover childish nightmare. Now I am not so sure. I am frightened in a way I have not felt since Joseph Buquet shadowed me and cornered me. I cannot remember how I managed to escape or why I did not report his transgression but I did not and that is why I feel guilt for what happened later. If I had taken steps to get him fired he would have been one less irritant for Erik and one less blot on his soul not to mention those poor women Monsieur Buquet raped and mur...No I won't think of that. I can't think of that.

I find myself at Erik's without having to think about directions in the dark. Why did I not return to my own room? Do I have a room? I feel the uneasiness from before building inside me again and turn my thoughts to something else. Silently I am begging for Erik to come to me. I only feel truly safe in his presence as odd as that sounds. I should be afraid of him but I am not. A dead man buried somewhere far away gives me the cold shivers yet a very alive murderer within the walls of this very building gives me a sense of security he should not instill in me.

What is wrong with me? Why can I not remember where I sleep or even if I sleep at all? What were all those pictures in my head about? The answers to these questions I shy away from as they cause my fear to rise to unbearable levels. I do not believe I will like the answers when they do come and I feel that the time for running away from them is coming to an end. I hope I accomplish all I need to before…before whatever catastrophe awaits me comes to pass. I know in the depth of my being that it is I who am in peril and not Erik. It is I who may come to an end. By what method I do not know but it will be painful to both Erik and I. This much dread can only mean we shall be separated by some means. I fear the answer to the unspoken questions.

Erik steps out from one of his hidden panels and my relief is so profound I cannot force my feet to stay planted. I feel as if I fly across the room to launch myself into his broad chest. At first he does nothing but stand rigidly within my tight embrace. I will him to wrap his arms around me and miracle of miracles he does. Heaven cannot be more warm or comforting as Erik's arms feel holding me tightly to his chest. Without thought my breath begins to align with his. It is as if we are of one heart and mind.

I would have been happy to remain in that position for a very long time but Erik gently pushes me away. He awkwardly steps back and looks down at his hands spread to his sides as if he did not know what to make of them. I know he is unaccustomed to being touched or touching others. Thus far only Christine has been lucky enough to receive his loving embrace. Everyone else found only pain to be their reward for having encountered Erik when he wished to remain anonymous.

"Woman who are you? What are you?" he asks bewilderedly. What does he want me to say? I am a woman, a woman who is in love with him, a woman who has loved him for a very long time from afar while hiding in the shadows just as he did when he kept track of Christine and her movements within his realm?

"What do you mean? I am Gabriella Star. I am a woman, only a woman," I offer desperately fearing he is asking for an answer I cannot give or am not ready to supply. The answer will be the death of me.

"No Mademoiselle Star you are much more. Only a trained magician could disappear as you did from Madame's office. I saw you. One moment you were there then the next there was only empty air. You gave poor Madame a terrible turn." His eyes spoke louder than his words and would not let me look away.

"That is not possible. I am no magician. Perhaps you are still having trouble with your eyes," I offer hoping to deflect him from interrogating me further.

Doubtfully he eyes me for a couple of seconds more before saying without any real conviction, "Perhaps. I did drop my head for a second when I heard Christine's name mentioned. Perhaps that is when you left the room."

"You see, there is a perfectly sound explanation. Imagine thinking I am some magician so skilled I can appear and disappear on command." I grope blindly behind me for something to hold onto for I feel as if my legs may give way at any time. Finding the solidity of a chair back I wrap my fingers around the smooth wood as if clinging to a lifeline tossed to me in turbulent waters. I do feel as if waves are crashing over me depriving me of life sustaining oxygen.

Not able to stand a moment longer I collapse down onto the seat of one of Erik's dining room chairs. Clasping my shaking hands together I wish desperately for Erik to come to me and place his strong hands on my shoulders. When he approaches me my heart begins to thunder in my chest. He does not touch me but stands so close I can feel his warmth seeping into me. The hairs on my arms are rising as are the ones along the back of my neck. I feel the static charge jumping from Erik to me. My crazy thoughts have me believing I am transferring life from Erik to me. Imagined or not I feel stronger for having him close to me. Some day it will be our love that binds us and not just my love for Erik that keeps us connected.

"I heard you tell Madame Giry that you can sing. Is this true?" I hate the eagerness in his voice although I can understand it. I do not wish for him to have feelings for me only because I am musical if indeed I am. Right at this very moment if he asked me to sing I am sure I'd croak like a frog just as Carlotta did.

"Well I suppose I can sing. Everyone can I am sure although some not as well as others," I warn just so he does not expect me to sound like his beloved Christine. I want to curse her to Hades but that would not be fair. It is not her fault he is besotted with her.

Turning away as if he has lost interest he says over his shoulder, "I shall be there tomorrow to judge for myself. Might I suggest you get to bed early and practice your scales tomorrow?"

"Playing the great maestro already I see," I mumble low enough that I am sure he cannot have heard but he pauses and tosses a nonchalant good night to me once again reminding me to rest and practice or he shall summarily dismiss me before I have a chance to open my mouth.

Cursed man softly closes his bedroom door behind him. I cannot keep the smile of gratitude to the powers that be for creating this opportunity for everyone involved in this drama to resolve their issues and at last move on. I dismiss the eerie warning resounding around inside of me. Why do I feel as though my journey will not end so nicely as everyone else's? Are Erik and I not meant to be? The way I feel and have felt for so many years cannot be wrong. If I cannot have Erik in my life then I wish for there to be no life for me at all. Some may say that is not a realistic outlook or a healthy one but I feel as if Erik's and my story have already been written and will end the way God intended. Sometimes we must just go where we are sent and make the best of the life we are given for however long we have it.

Restlessly I wander about the tunnels waiting for my eyes to grow tired. It only fleetingly comes to me that I have no idea where I lay my head at night. This should concern me but it does not. I am content to fill my head with Erik and what I shall sing to impress him. Oddly enough I know several operas in Italian, Spanish and French. The idea that I am Scottish by birth suddenly pops into my head. That is something new that I had not known about myself. In fact I do not remember ever trying to recall the origin of my birth.

Not wishing to dwell on my own life and details I return to sifting through all the songs I know well. How could I not remember I am the master of several languages or know so many operatic songs by heart? I have had no call for such a talent until now, at least not that I am aware of.

I do remember having a father and that we were not poor but not wealthy either. We had sufficient to keep body and soul together. Sisters and brothers do not parade around in numbers so I must be an only child. Since I do not correspond with anyone I must assume I am an orphan without any family at all. At least I have Erik and this opera house.

In the days to come I wonder what other revelations will be made to me. For some unknown reason I wish I could wall all unwanted recollections away until some later date, say in a hundred years when I am dead and gone. The thought of my death brings back that sense of unease. Rubbing my shoulders to ward off the sudden chill I continue on with my apparent never-ending meandering from one tunnel to the next seeking some place to rest my suddenly weary body. I stave off the urge to return to Erik's side so I may recapture that feeling of his body fueling mine with his energy and warmth. Right now I feel chilled to the bone and would like nothing more than to have his arms around me keeping me safe. I mustn't be greedy. My time will come soon enough. I must be patient for God's plan to unfurl.

**A/N: How real is Gabriella? I'll never tell, or at least not for a couple more chapters or so. Ghost or angel? All will be revealed in time. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**And the Angel's Sing**

**Erik**

This morning I awoke with purpose and an unusual eagerness to greet the day. Even the fact that down here I cannot distinguish between night and day for once does not give me a feeling that I am living a mole's existence instead of a man's.

Gabriella had me believing that only a few months had passed since the night of the fire but now I have regained all of my faculties and know it has been some months, almost a year in fact, since I let my judgment lapse so horribly. I don't know what her game is but I intend to find out at the earliest opportunity. In fact later tonight when all the workers have gone I shall pay a visit to the archives and search until I find what I am looking for. At present I am in the dark as to what it may be.

I know with absolute certainty I have seen Gabriella somewhere in this very opera house but in what capacity I cannot bring that memory to the fore just yet. Knowing I owe her gratitude and am obligated to her does not mean I will not expose her if she has some evil plot hatching inside her head. For all I know she may have some mad obsession for that de Chagny boy. Perhaps that is my own wishful thinking at work.

Despite those emotional rocks around my neck I feel freer than I ever have in my life. Once I cut Gabriella free I shall put all my energies into wooing and winning Christine. This time I will not let my darker nature rule me. Considering all eventualities I am also ready to let her leave with the Vicomte if that is her wish. All I shall ask is that she gives me a chance to prove my worthiness to receive her love.

Today I shall sit in my customary box five. As of yet no mention of me has been circulating among the workers other than rehashing the old story which I find boring and refuse to hear one word of it.

Madame Giry will need to be informed of my return to my position as resident Opera Ghost. I may reprise my Phantom persona but may not need to if all goes well. The Opera Ghost wrote the notes demanding payment for his services and the Phantom carried out the resulting punishments if demands were not met.

This time around I want to seem more human to everyone while still keeping an aspect of menace and mystery. I shall ask Madame if I may address her by her given name, Antoinette. Before I thought calling her something so personal as her first name put too much familiarity in our relationship. Loyalty is what I hope to base our relationship on this time as well as a business connection. If need be I can offer funds and purchase an interest in the opera house that will be legal and binding.

Walking through the tunnels I half expect to have Gabriel pop out startling me as she is wont to do at times. I try not to show my surprise as I would hate for her to know she can sneak up on me. I am supposed to be these two otherworldly beings who are the ones to cause fear in others not the other way around.

Coming to the place where there is a staircase that leads right up to a hidden panel in one of the columns of my box I climb the spiral stairs with vigor in every step. My health has returned as it should because I have done away with alcohol for now and my eating habits have improved. I may have even gained some weight. I shall have to watch this trend for I do not want to become like Piangi. Gabriella is a superb cook but I refrain from giving her compliments other than scrubbing my plate clean with a piece of bread so I can eat every delicious morsel.

Taking my seat I inspect my box. My managers have outdone themselves. Everything is even grander than before. They must have anticipated my return and wanted to make a good impression lest I let their past transgression sway me toward revenge.

They are lucky. Others who have tried to capture me met with nasty ends. Those men are anonymous to me because if I came upon one of my traps that had been sprung I left it without looking to see who I had ensnared. I couldn't face the result of my genius. I would leave that trap be for a while then reset it leaving without having taken a look inside. A few of my traps were just ropes that snagged around a neck then lifted the victim off their feet strangling them. Others, sharp spear like sticks came out of the wall stabbing the unsuspecting person to death. Protecting me and my domain had been a grizzly business in the past. Not anymore. I have disarmed the lethal ones and redesigned them so they capture but do not kill. I will implement a capture and release policy just in case some heroic Vicomte thinks he must rescue a damsel in distress. I wouldn't want my future bride to hate me for killing someone she cares about.

It is all I can do to keep my seat when Christine appears on stage. Everyone else fades into the background. How beautiful she looks. Her smile lights up the stage. At least that boy makes her happy. I shall be the one to bring about her smile in the future.

Raoul coming to stand protectively by Christine's side deflates my balloon of happiness. With the ease of familiarity his arm encircles her waist and she tilts her head to cast him a smile all his own. I would move heaven and earth to have her smile at me in the same way.

Movement by one of the curtains draws my eye. It is Gabriella standing like a timid mouse amongst a roomful of hungry cats. Does she intend to audition from behind the curtain? That does not bode well for her future if she cannot perform in front of others.

The cracking of Madame's walking cane against the wood flooring of the stage gradually brings the loud roar of mixed voices to an end. Stepping to the center of the stage she waves everyone center stage. Lifting a clipboard from the floor she reads off several names. Among them are Christine and Gabriella. I shall have to chastise Madame for placing my former protégé among these amateurs to audition like a beginner.

The first few women are adequate and will make good choices for the chorus. I am becoming bored with all this mediocre talent. Could Madame not have spared us all this unimportant drivel by simply pointing to some of the more pleasant looking hopefuls? Everyone knows they will all have terrible habits needing to be broken before singing one note during a performance. One is as good as another from my experience.

A hush comes over the stage bringing my eyes open and I slid forward in my seat. My Angel will be singing for me as she has not for quite some time. As Christine's voice begins to resound around me I change my mind about taking Madame to task as the pleasure derived from my angel's serenade fills me to the brim with ecstasy. Within seconds I notice several errors in tone. It is all I can do not to clap my hands together in glee and appreciation as soon I will be able to hear this seraphim any time I like and continue to trains such a heavenly instrument.

My attention returns to center stage when Gabriella's name is called. I will not be critical if she makes a poor showing. After all she is doing it so she can get closer to Christine as a favor to me. Without practice she can't be expected to do well. My standards are high but for her I shall instruct Madame to make an exception. Who would not sound inferior when coming after Christine's near perfect performance?

The lifting of the conductor's wand starts the music but Gabriella misses her cue. Twice more she stands stiff and unmoving and without opening her mouth to sing. I am about to swoop down and drag her off the stage when music fills the auditorium accompanied by such a wondrous sound I am enthrawled. Closing my eyes to savor the sounds my body thrums with every note and my ears rejoice to hear such perfection that is until she hits several notes that sound strained. She is struggling to hold the notes. Practice will solve the problem but that will not be useful now. I hope Madame is wise enough to know when she has heard the potential for a voice beyond the ordinary and make allowances for improvement with training.

It won't do at all if she dismisses Gabriella and the girl runs off too embarrassed to face me again. I hate to even think it but I need her. I need her to be cast in the next opera so she can get to know Christine. Her influence on Christine will be essential to my plan. I wish now I had made the effort to find her this past week we have been apart. I thought it best to cool my burgeoning libido so as to not complicate matters.

Gabriella hangs her head in defeat but Madame gives her hope when she says, "I do see potential my dear. Unless you are a former diva I do not expect instant perfection. Everyone will need to rehearse and practice before they reach the level required in this opera house."

"You mean I did not disgrace myself completely? I promise if you give me this chance I shall practice an hour a day, two, no, three hours a day. I shall practice day and night," Gabriella lavishly offers. I wonder if others see the shining aura around her and what they make of it if they do. Some how I did not expect Gabriella to show for the auditions or be seen and heard if she did. Why I feel she less of this world and more of another I have no concrete reason but feel in the deepest part of my being she does not belong here in this time. Nonsense my saner half declares while my more whimsical side declares anything is possible.

Madame scoffs at Gabriella drawing my attention when she says, "We shall not require quite that much dedication but I am sure our maestro will demand much of all of us."

"The…the maestro Maman…you did not say who he is. Is it…Is he…" Christine lets her sentence trail off into silence. She cannot bring herself to ask outright if it is her former teacher who will once again take on the role of power to cast roles as I see fit. Raoul reaching out to clutch Christine's hand brings a smile to my lips. He is afraid I will come down and carry off his future bride. He is justified in fearing what I might do. If I did not plan to come to Christine on an equal footing I would indeed steal her out from under his aristocratic nose.

Wisely Madame does not reveal that she suspects it is I who left that letter of introduction on her desk. I did not sign it by my usual signature, O.G., but by the name I shall now use as I rejoin the land of the living as Erik Destler. It is a name that has haunted me without any revelation as to why so I always assumed it is my name or that of my father.

"As of yet the man has not arrived. I only received a message that he might arrive late for the auditions and would watch from one of the boxes so he could get a feel for the acoustics from up there," Madame lies so convincingly not even Raoul looks skeptical.

As everyone starts to get restless and anxious to hear if they will be part of the upcoming performance Madame strikes down with her cane to regain their attention. Perhaps I should get me a similar cane to use when making my demands and save my voice.

Naturally Christine's name is called first as it should be. As the list grows longer and still Gabriella's name is not called my blood begins a slow simmer. Is the old crone doing this deliberately to punish me for breaking into her office? Impossible, she is unaware that Gabriella and I are acquainted.

As Christine comes to stand beside Gabriella to wrap an encouraging arm around her I then see what it is that Madame has been waiting for. She needed to see if Christine felt comfortable enough with the girl slated to be her understudy. They would be rehearsing the same songs under the tutelage of the same instructor, me.

My interest in the proceedings has ended. I must return to my home at once and begin the creation of my next opera featuring none other than Mademoiselle Christine Daaé as the shining star. Before I do I will detour to the archives and begin my research. Puzzles intrigue me, unsolved puzzles drive me mad. My concentration will be nil until I at least make some effort to discover just who Mademoiselle Gabriella Star really is and how I know her.

Searching through dusty tomes is not one of my favorite pastimes. I'd much rather be down in front of my new organ or piano beginning a new composition, one that is even now playing inside my mind. Soon I am waving my arms around as if conducting a full orchestra as the music will not be kept silent any longer. I only pause as several posters fall at my feet with Gabriella's face on them. The lettering is faded and parts of the poster boards are ripped away making it impossible to determine what performance this was or even if it was a performance from this opera house. It couldn't be or else I am sure I would remember.

I am about to dismiss the poster as unimportant when the date catches my eye. The impossibility of what I see only brings more unanswered questions. Unless Gabriella is pulling some elaborate hoax there has been a misprint on the poster. How could it be from some twenty years ago? She is only in her mid twenties now so would have been a toddler at that time not a woman in full bloom.

Digging further into the pile I find letters referring to a Gabriella Star as a potential candidate for the new diva. Lefèvre had seen her on stage and fell in love with her instantly. Alas he had already engaged himself to the woman who later became his wife.

This correspondence must have been mixed with opera house business papers by mistake. Lefèvre always was a haphazard organizer. Perhaps this woman is some relation to Gabriella. She may even be Gabriella's mother. That does not explain the identical names or the perfectly reproduced copy of my new companion.

The more I read the more certain I become that something, some complex plot, is at work here but who is the master and why the elaborate subterfuge?

An envelope thick with some unknown contents catches my interest. Removing the contents I read headlines about missing chorus girls and a prominent Irish singer who had lived in Paris for most of her life until her disappearance. Gabriella Star.

That mystery leaves me unsettled with the possible answers. My next discovery shocks me to the core. I am horrified and want to put everything back and erase it all from my memory but my damn insatiable curiosity won't let me simply walk away from the complexity of this new puzzle. My mind and my desires are at war. My desires win out and I bundle all the papers up and grab the wood box from beside the fireplace to place everything in so I can transport it back for perusal later. After all I feel Gabriella poses no threat to anyone other than me and that is not a threat of life and limb but rather one of...no, I won't say it or even think it. It is impossible. I won't let it be so.

A flash of memory stops me dead in my tracks. I am standing beside three newly dug graves and though unmarked I seem to know who the unfortunate people are for I am certain there are human remains beneath the freshly turned earth just as certain as the three women had been someplace else and moved here so a proper Christian burial could be performed.

Not all the circumstances from that day are revealed to me. I look to be about fifteen. At that time my anger against the world started to peek in earnest and I tried to cut off all my human emotions. I suppose that is why I forgot about those unmarked graves or the poor souls buried for so long without any recognition from the world of their passing other than a secret ceremony performed by Lefèvre to cover up a major scandal and a young man destined to become a ghost.

Before my mind can reveal just who these women are I slam the door on that particular information. I must have forgotten it for a reason and that can only be one thing, I had something to do with their deaths.

There are times when my rage burned so hotly I blacked out and lost segments of time. Afterward I could not remember where I had been or what I had done. Sometimes my hands and clothing spoke of a violent struggle. Fearing what I had done I do know that I threw all evidence of what I thought I did into the incinerator. Memories cannot be burned, only temporarily forgotten.

Having Gabriella come into my life on what was the anniversary of that other Gabriella Star's death is too coincidental not to be significant. If I believed in ghosts and the afterlife I'd conclude one of my victims came back seeking revenge. The more logical side of my brain is leaning toward Gabriella being some relation to that other woman. One thing I cannot dismiss is her voice when she sang. I know I have heard it before and no two voices are quite the same. They are unique to that one person, so how is this present Gabriella Star sounding so much like her past namesake that each note resounds with the same tones?

Unaccustomed chills pass over me. If someone walked over my grave I could not feel any colder than I do now. Part of me is urging me to destroy the poster along with everything else as I first wanted to do and leave the whole mystery alone but that side of me that must seek and find answers will not let me simply put everything back and leave it be. I must find out what more there is to learn about my new protégé Gabriella Star.

**A/N: And so the mystery begins to unravel. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**The Beginning of the End**

**Gabriella**

Feeling faint I lean on Christine shamefully. Nervousness does not account for this weakness I feel in my entire body. I feel drained when I should feel exhilarated. I have just won the position of understudy to the new diva Christine Daaé soon to be Vicomtese Christine de Chagny. Always before when I felt something similar to this I felt an urgent need to be close to Erik and now I can feel that same emotion welling up in me.

"Are you alright Mademoiselle Star? Can we get you a drink of water? Would you like to sit down?" Christine's concern is evident by the worry reflected in her voice and eyes.

Raoul adds the weight of his strong arm to help support me. Now I am feeling embarrassed to be the center of attention with everyone's eyes trained on me and whispers being spoken behind the hands of some of those around us. It isn't like me to let something so simple as an audition drive me to this level of anxiety. Confusion settles in as I now wonder how I would know what it feels like to audition for anything. In all my days here at the opera house I have only ever played a miner role in the scheme of things and that role has been behind the scenes.

Visions flash so fast through my weary brain I cannot hold onto them but get the impression of this stage crowed just as it is now but with different people. My head is beginning to feel as if an orchestra is settling in for a long rehearsal. Peace and quiet are what I need. Time alone to recover from whatever ailment is causing such pain. I cannot be ill now, not when I am so close to getting Erik. I cannot…I cannot die. I refuse to leave this world until Erik has everything he deserves whether it be with me or with…with someone else.

I want to get away from all these people. There are too many hands touching me. While Erik's touch feels natural Christine and Raoul's hands feel foreign and unwelcome. Coldness is settling inside my very core. I am beginning to shiver. They start leading me away from the stage toward the area where the dressing rooms are located. Not one word will come out of my shivering lips.

Within a few minutes I am lying prone on a divan in a dressing room with a mound of blankets piled on top of me. I hate this feeling of being trapped beneath such a great weight. It is a familiar sensation but I do not know in what context I experienced it before. All I know is my chest feels tight and deprived of air.

Glancing around in a panic I see Raoul leave the room and Christine searching through a wardrobe. This is my chance to leave and I must take it. I have to find Erik. I need his strength right now. What I think he can do to bolster my flagging energy is not clear I just know if I can be with him I will return to my usual vigorous self.

Where I found the needed strength to get up and leave is something I'll worry about later. All I care about is one moment I am lying under a crushing weight and the next I am stumbling along a darkened tunnel on my way to Erik's new lair. As the distance between us lessened so did my illness. By the time I reached the hidden panel I felt almost like my old self.

Erik had his back to me but turned as soon as I entered the room. He had been looking at sheets of music yellowed with age. Putting them down he came to stand in front of me so close I could feel his breath disturbing the stray hairs that always manage to come loose of my combs. He does not touch me only stands there looking blankly into my face.

I feel that same reaction I did the last time Erik came near me. It is as if his body is recharging mine. Whatever it is I am doing I must stop it for I sense that Erik is losing the vitality I am gaining. As crazy as that sounds I cannot shake the feeling that if I do not remove myself from close proximity to Erik I will do him unintentional harm. Taking a couple of steps back I turn away before temptation leads me to seek the comfort of Erik's strong aura.

I know whatever spell or strange phenomenon we had been sharing it is well and truly over when Erik demands, "I shall need more paper right away. Already my next masterpiece is working its way to my fingertips."

"Of course Erik and I suppose ink will be needed as well. Is there anything else you might need?" I feel like bowing as he commands rather than requests my cooperation. Shame quickly replaces my flip attitude when Erik sways then sits down heavily onto the piano bench.

Rubbing at his forehead with his fingertips draws my attention to the fact that he does not look well. His skin is even paler than usual. Thinking back I realize his words had been demanding but they lacked their usual bite. Is his illness returning? I dismiss that as if it were that he would have become ill sooner. It has been too long for it to be a relapse.

Guilt washes over me and I cannot find a reason for it unless I feel that I should have noticed Erik's symptoms sooner. So much for our connection if I cannot even tell when he is becoming ill.

Throughout the evening as I prepare Erik a tempting meal I keep close watch over him without seeming to hover. He would boot me out if he felt I was crowding his space.

By bedtime he had recovered completely, so much so that he demanded I make it my personal business to get close to Christine and let her know he wished to see her. I am to tell her that Erik will not seek her out unless she wished to see him too. I am not sure if even I believe him but I dare not question him.

My night was one long unending worry fest. How I am to begin rehearsals will be a true test of my fortitude. I should feel tired but feel no different than any other day other than some expected nervousness to be under such close scrutiny by so many people.

Christine is already onstage when I arrive. Immediately she comes to me with her wide sweet smile. No wonder Erik fell under her spell. She has even won me over. Nothing but honest friendship and concern shine from her eyes. Behind her is a blond girl around her age that I recognize as Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter. She too shares Christine's innocence. No wonder they stayed so close even when most little girls would have resented having someone come along to share their mother after losing their own father.

"Well you look so much better today. I hope you rested well. Madame said we are to be inspected today by the new maestro. He will be sitting in…in box five," her voice fades at the end as her glance turns upward in the direction of box five. Is he there? Of course he is there. Nothing short of death would keep him away.

Since I have concluded that I may not be the person to save Erik after all I must step back and do all I can to encourage Christine to see Erik and give him the chance to show her the side of him I see.

"Yes I feel so much better." Turning to Meg I address her directly, "I know we have not been properly introduced but I believe I would know you anywhere from the description I heard about your grace and beauty. You can only be Meg Giry. I am so pleased to finally meet you personally. I hope we become great friends just as I hope Christine and I do. After all we women of the stage do not always have to be at one another's throats. I for one know my place and it is not center stage. I am quite happy to be waiting in the wings if needed. After yesterday's showing I am surprised I have a place at all."

"Nonsense, I heard you from where I sat in the third row. Maman wanted me to observe and make assessments as to how everyone carried themselves. Posture is key to performing well. We must have ample room for the proper intake of air after all," she is standing with her hands clasped in front of her and speaking as if she is reciting a well rehearsed speech.

When both my companions burst into laughter I am sure Meg repeated something she has heard from her own mother many times. The woman may be a dance instructor but Madame was also a prominent member of the chorus until dance lured her away. All this personal information I know about everyone who ever worked in the opera house and yet my own life is still so unclear to me. I remember my father and mother but beyond that very little. Until recently the past as it concerned me held no interest for me. Now with all those snippets of events I have seen in flashes of memories I find I want to know more yet fear I will not like what is revealed.

Meg pulls a key out of her pocket and hands it to me saying, "Maman has assigned you a dressing room so she must believe you will live up to expectations. After rehearsals Christine and I can show you where the room is located. There are so many corridors and floors in this place if you are not familiar with them one can become easily lost. Or if you are one of the unlucky or lucky some may say he might take you."

"Meg, don't," Christine says fearfully as she grabs Megs arm then looks around quickly.

Placing a sisterly hand on Christine's arm Meg offers a comforting pat with her apology, "Oh don't mind me Christine. I am always putting my foot in my mouth. Lucky for me it is such a small foot." Meg sticks her very tiny foot out for us to inspect.

Watching the two of them together I feel strangely left out. Having neither brothers nor sisters did I miss something that other children have? I do not recall specifics of my childhood but can detect no lack in me.

Christine through no fault of her own has had the lion's portion of attention in the opera house and with Erik's continued interest she will remain in the limelight. I know what I am experiencing and it is good old fashioned jealousy. What I wouldn't do to have Erik praise me for one thing I did the way he goes on and on about his precious Christine. This sounds petty but darn it do I not deserve my chance with him? Will she never return the key to Erik's heart so he may love another? At this point I am in doubt he wants to move on at all not even in the deepest recesses of his subconscious.

Madame Giry and another woman come on stage and in true Madame fashion uses her cane to bring all conversation and attention to her.

"This is Senora Margarita Costa my dear friend and our newest member of the staff. For the time being she is stepping in for our delayed maestro. She will be instructing and training those chosen to be in the next production. Those not chosen will attend her early morning and evening classes for further training. Any particular areas anyone is concerned about in their own performance capabilities please inform her so they may be addressed," with a nod at the end it is clearly meant that she is dismissing us or more precisely she is removing herself and leaving us in the hands of our new surrogate maestro.

One by one we are asked to sing the scales. Not knowing what in the world I am doing I just mimic what Christine did. I must have gotten it fairly close to correct for Senora Costa did not reprimand me vocally but I did see her making notes and conferring with Meg.

I feel so inferior with the multitalented Meg Giry and Christine Daaé sharing the stage with me. I am just able to spare everyone sounding like a frog while they are being admired by everyone and Christine in particular is being mooned over by one man I want to impress in my own way. No doubt he will have much to say about today's poor showing on my part and the spectacular performance by Christine. Likely Meg will come in for some praise from him as well. Perhaps with all that perfection displayed for his feasting eyes he did not notice me at all but then again I did get chosen and he did not berate Madame for doing so. Does that mean something? Very little as he has not as yet made himself known to anyone but me. He did not choose me. Would he have given me even a benefit of a doubt if he had been the one in control? Not likely is my depressing answer.

Dispirited by that thought when rehearsals are over six grueling hours later I try to circumvent around my self appointed guardians but they are persistent as lice in a flop house. There I go disparaging them just because I am so envious of their beauty and their talent. Both attributes are sure to draw Erik's attention. Feeling he is among the ugliest men alive it is natural for him to crave perfection.

Christine did not stay long in my room once we found it as Raoul came to escort her home. Even they had trouble finding my newly appointed domicile. I could have found it with my eyes closed but of course could not disclose that fact.

It is not quite proper for Raoul to be spending so much time unchaperoned with Christine. Those two had best make an announcement soon or gossip will spread like a wildfire. I see nothing wrong with a young woman living with her fiancé when she is essentially alone in the world. Alone, how I hate the sound of the word and even more do I hate its meaning. Meg leaves with Christine and Raoul leaving me blessedly alone so I can lick my wounds in private.

Privacy is shattered as the mirror opens like a door and Erik steps out. I should have known. My senses are impaired by the jumble of emotions I am experiencing. Usually I would have known exactly where Erik was.

He is filled with excitement when he says, "Was she not as near to perfection as one can get? I must begin teaching her again. The world will open their arms to welcome her as the next world class diva. Under my tutelage there is no doubt about how far she will climb on the ladder to world recognition as a star of the stage."

His words wound me and he does not even notice the hurt that must surely be showing on my face. Everyone said I did very well and even Christine said my voice rivaled hers. Kindness toward an inferior performer may have motivated her praise but not everyone could be wrong. Why can Erik not see what is right in front of his face? Frustration and anger make me want to shake him until his teeth rattle.

"I was going to wait but find I cannot. Tomorrow you will bring Christine back here. I will be waiting for her. Once she is in the room you will make an excuse to leave. I know she is ready to see me again. Everything that has happened points to that conclusion," Erik declares with certainty.

Not only do I have to stand on the sidelines and watch Erik woo another woman but he is demanding I facilitate their romance by bringing them together. Knowing it would come to this does not make it any easier to swallow my pain.

My continued silence must have frustrated him for he grabs me and shakes me as I wanted to do to him earlier. Only now it is my teeth that are rattling. I feel more real lately than I ever have before which makes no sense. I _feel_ more. Actually feel the touch of another's hands and know that they see me, really see me in the flesh. I had begun to have the odd notion I was invisible or a real live ghost. Can a ghost be alive? Erik was a ghost and he definitely lives.

"Woman when I relay my demands to you I expect a response so I know that we are clear on what I need done," he grits out between clenched teeth. Erik is so quick to anger and strike out at the person or thing irritating him. At the moment I am his target.

As I think of Erik releasing me as if by magic his hands are at his sides and I am several steps away from him. How this happened I do not try to phathom but I am glad not to be within Erik's grasp. Usually when he mishandles me I don't really feel anything and have never seen a bruise or other wound. Now I have his man-sized fingerprints on my arms. It is disconcerting while filling me with some sense of pleasure.

I am not a masochist and do not enjoy pain, not that I can remember experiencing any but in this instance it reassures me that I am alive and real. Why I should need such reassurance is not clear nor am I anxious to explore this subject any more. I will leave it just knowing I feel more real to Erik than I ever have before. He touched me and I felt it. That time he touched my face so tenderly the feelings I had were not real. I only let my mind fool me they were. I hadn't really felt a thing.

Sometimes this lack of feeling people and things around me does bother me. Everyone should be able to experience the feel of objects coming into contact with their skin. I do not or at least I did not before but now with Erik I did. I had a real response to him and not something fabricated in my mind to stave off those questions in my mind I shy from voicing.

"Yes Erik, of course I will bring her here but do you think you should approach her just now? Would it not be better to let me slowly lead her to the knowledge of your presence?" I nearly beg as I speak. I want more time with Erik alone. If Christine is with him I will be even less visible to him. Without him what else do I have? Nothing.

Satisfaction floods over his face just before he turns and with a flick of his wrist the mirror opens and he is gone leaving me broken in a way I can say I have never been before. All I have done for him means nothing, I am nothing. Only Christine is worthy of his notice, his love.

Misery is not a pleasant companion when one is doubting their own existence. There are too many gaps in my history before and after coming to the opera house. Conflicting emotions are warring for victory. Part of me wants to dig out my past while the other feels it safer to leave well enough alone.

My want of Erik supersedes my need to discover any snippets of information I might find by riffling through the opera house archives. I can feel a door trying to push open to reveal all to me but I am afraid what that door conceals. There must be a reason I locked every memory away except my parents and portions of my childhood. If I had some traumatic incident is it not better not to relive it if it is so horrible I could not face it?

Having made my decision on the matter I return to my nightly roaming of the opera house and its many tunnels imaging Erik is at my side. He may even reach out and clasp my hand. Clutching this small fantasy to my chest gives me perhaps an unreal outlook on events to come but it is my dream to relive or forget. I choose to relive every second of it as and when I can.

**A/N: Poor Gabriella. How sad to doubt your very existance when all you want is to feel life and love with one special man. Will it end in her favor? Only time will reveal. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Return of the Angel**

**Erik**

Concentration on anything other than my upcoming meeting with Christine is impossible. During my long wait I must have tread miles in a circular pattern on the carpet in my parlor. Now I wish I had told Gabriella to bring Christine to me before rehearsal. That would have saved me all this nervous upset in my stomach.

I had tried to sift through the mounds of papers I brought back with me last night but could not give them the proper attention they would need. The mystery of Gabriella is not so important it cannot wait for a few days. After all what I am suspecting makes no sense at all and the parts that do are not things I wish to remember.

The clock's striking the hour signaling it is time for me to make my way to my box I rush to the panel with all haste and little grace. Usually my entrance into my box is noiseless but in my haste I am careless and stumble into one of the chairs. In the silence of the auditorium the sound is deafening. It sounded as if someone shot a pistol inside or at least to me it does while others seem to be unaffected.

Those onstage pay little attention to anything other than the next few hours of practice and rehearsal. At this stage in the production anyone not coming up to my high standards will be cut without any remorse or reasons other than they are inadequate. Of course they see Madame Giry as the force behind the production as I have not come up with an idea how I may mingle among those on stage without causing a stampede toward the doors.

The instant I spot Christine everyone else becomes unnecessary as far as I am concerned. Gabriella only briefly draws my eyes away from the vision I want to feast my eyes and ears on.

It pleases me to see the two women talking. Gabriella is doing her part to bring about the results I anticipate. Soon I will be within touching distance of my Angel once more. Tingles as well as other physical reactions happen letting me know just how deprived I have been for so long. I am a man craving the intimate embrace of a woman, not just any woman but that of my lovely Christine. She will be mine.

During the rehearsal I force myself to concentrate on each performer's faults and strengths. When Gabriella gives a near perfect rendition of the part both she and Christine are performing I feel as if I am betraying my angel. From that moment on I find fault with everything Gabriella does. She is slouching, her voice cracked several times. When she is walking while singing the part her gait is not smooth and comely but rather like a heavy footed drunken sailor. All of this is untrue and I know it but it at least tempers some of my guilt for comparing Gabriella to Christine in a favorable light.

Before the rehearsal ends I leave my box to make my way to Gabriella's dressing room. My feet cannot move fast enough. Ignoring the churning in my stomach I finally reach the mirror to Gabriella's dressing room. This is so reminiscent of those days I waited for Christine to come for her lessons. I could not always arrange for a room with a mirror so there were times we met in the chapel or other areas where I had access.

Gabriella comes in with her face flushed which is uncommon for her. In fact she always looks so pale, paler even than I do. Not a sickly pallor but not quite normal either. Christine comes in behind her eclipsing everything in the room. How can Raoul bear for anyone else to see her and admire her? If she were mine I'd take her to the far reaches of the world so only I could look upon her loveliness. Selfish of me but that is how I feel. I need no one but Christine.

Without hesitation Gabriella walks straight up to the mirror. The flush has faded leaving her usual pallor behind. In her eyes there is either hurt or sadness lurking in the depth of blue that draws me to her. Against my will I find myself wanting to release the mechanism that will open the mirror so I can go to Gabriella and lend her my strength. I have felt that familiar pull before and felt weakened once the spell was broken. Not wanting to delve into this phenomenon I tear my gaze away to seek Christine.

I observe that she is looking about her, not nervously or fearfully but almost eagerly. I assume she has been told about me already. Good, that saves me having to speak from behind the mirror then hoping Christine does not run away.

Stepping into the room with as little fanfare as possible for a few moments we all stare at one another. More precisely Christine and I seem to be transfixed. I cannot help but devour her with my eyes and I find she is doing the same. Perhaps she has missed me. In an age old gesture between us I hold out my hand to her and without hesitation she places hers into mine. I am gratified I still hold power over her.

"Christine," is all I can say as I feel her hand in mine. This time I made certain I left behind my gloves. I will savor every touch just in case this euphoric reunion does not last.

"Angel, Master…How I have wanted to see you, to know you were alive and well," her lips speak words that are music to my ears. She has dreamed of me as I dreamed of her.

"I am not anyone's angel nor am I your master. Please call me Erik, just plain Erik," I hope she does not detect how desperately I need for her to address me as a mere man.

"Erik, yes it is perfect for you. The name fits you very well," she further boosts my morale with her approval of something so simple as a name.

"Will you sit and talk with me for a while? There is so much I want to know and want to tell you. If at the end of our conversation you are not frightened by me I do have a very serious question to ask you?" her eyes take on a puzzling glow wondering what else I could want.

A rather loud sigh of disgust accompanied by what I am sure is something derogatory mumbled under Gabriella's breath briefly draws my concentration away from Christine. Surprisingly Gabriella is giving Christine a look just short of hatred. I thought the two women were becoming good friends. Gabriella seemed to like Christine when I listened in on their conversation.

Dismissing whatever ails Gabriella I command her to leave the room. Her mouth twists in what I am sure is her stubborn look but in the end with a flounce that whirls her skirts in a wide circle she leaves the room and by accident or on purpose the door slams rather loudly. I will be speaking to her later about a woman and proper etiquette. For now I have to make do with perhaps only an hour when I want a thousand, a million hours to learn everything about Christine. I know almost everything but not her thoughts and feelings.

As she turns away from me my sorrow is such I can scarcely breathe. Profuse gratitude fills me when she sits down on the settee. I am startled when she pats the cushion beside her and invites me prettily, "Come sit here so we may talk and catch up. I want to know everything you have been doing since…since I have been away."

How sweet of her not to refer to the night my sanity left me. Gingerly I sit down beside her. My cape touches her skirt giving me thrills from something that men normally would not even notice. I notice everything about her, her scent, the curve of her neck, all the womanly attributes that seem to have intensified in the past few months. I suppose it was inevitable that she would change once out from under my strict hand.

Now that she is here and I am free to speak to her face to face I find it difficult. I wish I had stayed behind the mirror then I could have spoken to her. Searching for an intelligent sentence I at last try to speak but need to clear my throat of the nervous clog to get the words out. At last I am able to ask, "How are you?"

What an asinine question. Out of all the things I want to know that is secondary to why she returned and if she does have some residual feelings for me that we may build upon.

"Erik. How strange your name feels on my tongue. Why did you never tell me who you were once I became aware that you were only a man and not the Angel of Music I imagined," I hear the disillusionment in her voice. I betrayed her innocent trust. I am a beast, a monster, just as everyone believes.

"My motives were selfish and I do beg your forgiveness for distorting something that you held dear as a connection to your father. At first I only meant to comfort you then once I learned you wanted to sing I became obsessed with molding you into the brightest star in all of France, in all the world and then you captured my heart and I fell in love," the honesty is foreign to me but it feels uplifting to bring them out in the open.

She turns to me and unexpectedly embraces me as she cries on my shoulder. Emotions rip through me so quickly I am unable to react on any of them. If I do not do something soon she will conclude I am a moronic fool or fabricating lies to win her over. Gaining her pity is the furthest thing from my mind.

Separating out my jumbled emotions I am able to respond at last to her nearness as is proper. Embracing anyone is not something I am familiar with even though I embraced her when I sang Music of the Night to her. I could never have spoken to Christine in the same way I sang to her. I am a different person when I sing. It takes me out of my body into a surreal world where anything is possible.

If I had to choose a perfect moment to die it would be now as I hold her against my chest and feel her arms steal around my neck. Precious tears soak my collar. I will cherish each one and hide this shirt away amongst all my other Christine memories.

Pushing away from me Christine cups my face between her two hands. Tremulously her fingers wrap around my mask freezing my heart in mid beat. Unlike the last two times she does not rip away my mask. This time she is awaiting my permission. Why would she want to have my ugliness in all its horrible twisted and distorted flesh revealed before her innocent eyes again?

Searching her face I look into her eyes. If the eyes are the window to a person's soul then I clearly see Christine's right now. I believe this is her way of proving to me that I am not without some redeeming qualities just as her two kisses conveyed on our last night together. I appear to have gone into some fantasy world when I hear her speak the impossible words, "Erik kiss me, please kiss me."

Dream or hallucination I am not strong enough to resist the command especially as I have relived every second of the last two kisses she gave to me.

Hesitantly I bend down fearing my own desires are leading me astray. A thousand explosions go off inside of me at the first press of my lips to hers. Our last encounter I had been to ashamed and heartbroken to do anything more than stand there letting her mouth cover mine without once touching her in any other way. I'd be damned if I would not touch as much of her as she will allow this time.

If ever a man can be set afire by a simple kiss then it surely will happen to me. Every pore in my body is absorbing her essence. I cannot drink in her magical taste fast enough. My desire to devour her must be restrained. Manly reactions to her nearness and the allure of her lusciousness are hard to keep at bay when every part of me is hard and ready for the act of love.

While my kiss is deepening her lips are growing colder. Slowly I come down from my sexual high. I am the only one enjoying the meeting of our flesh to flesh. Christine's ardor had cooled if indeed there had ever been any at all. Anger and frustration are not conducive to a pleasant conversation when the one feeling lead on is the one and only Phantom of the Opera.

Angrily I stand and turn away from her so I can retreat behind the mirror before my building anger gets the best of me. It isn't her fault I am so disgusting it is hard to pretend to enjoy touching any part of me. I want to smash everything in sight but most of all I want to encircle Raoul's neck with my bare hands watching as the life drains out of him.

"Erik, stop! I am sorry. It was wrong of me but I had to know. I couldn't…Raoul and I are engaged. He wants for us to be married soon. I had to know for certain if I chose correctly," tearfully she implores me to stay.

Anger has risen to the level of pure rage by now. Turning back to her I stalk over to where she has risen from her sitting position. Towering over her with all my rage pulsing with every throb of my beating heart I intimidate her feeling empowered to have her at my mercy.

"You mademoiselle are a liar, a tease. You think to mock me because of my past affection for you, are there others listening behind the door waiting for the triumphant moment you rip off my mask to reveal my shame once more? I suffered the fires of hell at your hands the last time and for that you shall pay," I let my venom out holding nothing back. Once I would have driven a dagger in my heart if she had asked but now I am hard pressed not to drive that dagger into her lying heart.

As her hand rises to touch my face I encircle her wrist with a bone crushing grasp. Never again will I let her fool me. Even as my anger toward her has vitriolic words being hurled toward her I know deep in my soul I do not mean a word of it. Part of me wants to drop to my knees and beg her to forgive me. I would offer to be her slave to command just to be able to see her, to speak to her once in a while. I shall die without her in my life.

Slowly calm returns to me. Defeat is what I am feeling most. I have lost her if I ever had any part of her at all. After all what have I done to win the smallest bit of admiration from her? Too much in my past is of a murderous nature while hers is pure and innocent.

"Erik you misunderstand me. What I tried to say and not very successfully is that I do care for you. From the first moment we met as you sang to me in the chapel I have wanted to know more of you. As I matured other feelings began to grow inside of me. Even as I feared you I anticipated every one of our sessions." She drops her head down as a blush covers her cheeks.

"I had to know if what I felt for you is stronger than what I feel for Raoul," hastily she turns away from me. Shame is seeping into her words. Not for having kissed me but for continuing to have feelings for me while engaged to Raoul and swearing her love to him.

"From the night I left you have filled every dream at night and nearly every waking hour. I worried lest the murderous mob overtook you and…I dare not speak my thoughts aloud. They are too painful. Without you I felt alone even when in the company of others. I missed you and hearing your wonderful voice but most of all I missed getting to know you as the man, the man I now know as Erik. Can you not be happy for me and continue to be my tutor? Can we not be friends? I would hate a world that did not include you," she speaks sincerely as she comes back to stand in front of me. There is no fear or malice about her.

How can I deny her anything? Is not my world more complete with her in it also? I let go of having her for my wife once and now I do so again but I will remain as her tutor. Her voice will once again make my music take flight and for that crumb of happiness I shall be eternally grateful.

"If I cannot win your love then at least let me own your voice. I shall take you to the stars. The world will know that Christine Daaé sings to rival the angels because of her tutor Erik Destler," I am once again feeling the power of my Phantom persona without the murderous tendencies. This time I shall be known for my great compositions and spellbinding operas.

**A/N: Think Gabriella has gone far or is she one to listen at keyholes? **


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Time Grows Short**

**Gabriella**

Pacing back and forth with stops near the door so I can lean in hopefully to hear some of their conversation only brings my frustration level to near bursting point. What can they be saying that takes so long? What are they doing? Really I do not want the answer to either question as my mind has shown me graphically what might be going on behind that closed door and I do not care for any of those pictures tormenting me.

I should have put my foot down and stayed on the premise that it is not proper for an engaged woman to alone with a single man not sharing any familial ties with her. I know it would be a ruse but wonder if Erik would have known. Anger toward him had let my feelings rule me. I lost all my powers to reason while wanting to bash him over the head with something and I may yet do so if only to clear his head of all this Christine nonsense.

As time passed I felt foolish standing in the corridor talking to myself. If someone came along they would think I have lost my mind and perhaps I have. I feel quite vengeful at the moment. I would love to see handfuls of Christine's luscious auburn hair twisted around my hands.

I hate having these awful emotions but love and jealousy when mixed together can create a very nasty green-eyed monster. I hate her. I hate myself. I hate…no, I cannot even in my fury say that I hate Erik. Honestly I do not hate Christine either. People cannot always chose where their hearts love.

Coming to the conclusion I would feel better walking miles of deserted dark tunnels I find my feet walking within seconds of making the decision. I will not let my unease about Christine perhaps winning Erik over spoil how I feel about him. Alright I was angry and jealous but I can work through that. It isn't as if I haven't done it before when Erik…When he and I…Sudden panic urges me to run. Mindlessly I pump my legs as fast as I can trying to outrun some memory that wants to get out but I am not ready for it. I feel it in my bones that to remember it will bring me nothing but pain.

This is not the first time I have felt as if Erik and I haave met before. If not face to face then perhaps he spoke to me from behind one of his secret panels trying to scare me as I followed him. Surely I would remember something like. What reason would I have to block out a past encounter with Erik?

Needing to see Erik I do not return to my dressing room. I know he has departed to return to his lair. Christine will think me very rude to abandon her as I did but she will forgive me for that is the kind of person she is as much as I would like to brand her a harlot without feelings or compassion.

Erik is standing by the piano riffling through papers. Assuming he is deep in thought I keep quiet waiting for him to turn and notice me. Starling me when he says, "I need more ink and paper. Please see to it that I am provided with them immediately."

Just having gone through the gamut of emotions from hating him and Christine to loving him and admitting she is not a harlot or uncaring I am not in the mood to receive orders from him. Could he at least thank me for arranging the meeting between him and his precious Angel of Music?

Stewing for a few seconds waiting for some show of gratitude it is soon apparent to me expecting any concession from him is a waste of time. After preparing his evening meal I shall go about my own business. If I can remember where I keep my belongings I will set about moving them to my newly appointed dressing room. I am no longer an invisible employee behind the scenes. I am an understudy to a diva.

Preparing to leave once the last of the dishes from my meal preparation are washed and put away I am ready to leave when Erik stops me with the command, "You shall be rehearsing for the second female lead in the show. You will come here every day after rehearsals are finished upstairs."

Confusion forces my next question from my lips, "What about Christine and her lessons? I thought I was to be her understudy."

The twisting pain in my chest I cannot stave off as it occurs to me that Erik believes I am not good enough to follow in Christine's footsteps.

"You will rehearse her part but come here to rehearse for the part you will be assigned tomorrow. I will make the arrangements with Madame tonight," boredom filters into his words while I am balanced on a tightrope of hope and doom.

"Have I made myself clear Mademoiselle Star?" So it is Mademoiselle Star now that Christine is to return as his student and heaven only knows what else. I will stand for much, a lot of debasing myself in order to prop up Erik's lagging ego and self esteem but I will not let him relegate me to the status of a mere acquaintance. He will address me as he always has or I'll give way to my former inclination to bash him over the head.

"Yes Monsieur Destler," meekly I respond to his command. I can see he does not appreciate my formality. Well let him feel what I do. All these hurt emotions I experience are because of him whether because of his pain or mine or because he has done something that discourages me from believing I will ever win more than an annoyed acceptance from him istoo subtle a difference to split hairs.

His silence does not reveal anything of what he is feeling but the ramrod posture and arms stiff at his side speak volumes. So I do mean more to him than a mere slave to his whims. Before I step through the panel leaving him to his solitude hesitantly he asks, "Will you not share my evening meal Gabriella?"

Softly spoken as the words were they rang like church bells in my ears. I wanted to rejoice. Not only did he invite me share a table with him but he called me Gabriella, much better than Mademoiselle Star any day. Without giving verbal acceptance I set the table for two. When everything is ready Erik comes behind me to hold my chair like a proper gentleman. For a moment he rests his hands on my shoulders and I feel as if I may die of happiness.

Throughout the evening we discuss many subjects. I am not aware of any extensive education on my part but I matched Erik in my knowledge of several topics. The gleam of appreciation in his eyes when I corrected a mistake he made lifted my feet off the ground all the way to wherever it is I went after leaving his home. He checked in a book to search out which one of was correct and while I pointed to the pertinent paragraph Erik's shoulder touched mine. I lost interest in reading if I could have found the good sense to be able to read with him so close and smelling of freshly washed skin.

I felt hot and cold shivers not like anything I felt before. These were not in reaction to anything negative but to everything positive I know about Erik and how he makes me feel. For so long I believed something had happened to me that prevented me from being able to experience the touch of others or the simple everyday things we take for granted. For my first remembered touch to be Erik is poetic in my opinion. This proves we are meant to be.

Erik's harsh breathing pulls my mind from daydreams of similar contact between us. Slowly he closes the book and now it is I who am breathing as if the air had been sucked from my lungs.

At first Erik's chest is all I see. Slowly I raise my head and inch by inch travel from his chest to his strong neck, with a bobbing Adam's apple, then finally my gaze is affixed on his very tempting mouth. With an indrawn breath he reveals a set of very white perfectly straight teeth except for some charmingly barely noticeable misaligned teeth in the front bottom row.

The tip of his tongue wets his mouth drawing my eyes to follow that sensuous glide with barely contained lustful thoughts. When did I become this woman craving such things as learning Erik's body from his feet to the top of his head with long drawn out inspections of his manly torso and places I blush just thinking about?

My chin is lifted by Erik's fingers. I can scarcely take in this new development when my heart is pumping so fast it might explode and all of my senses are being bombarded with so many unexplored sensations I may faint from the strain of them. Just when I think I cannot bear one second longer without the taste and feel of his mouth covering mine he lowers his head to brush his lips softly over mine. As mind boggling as this is I want more. More what and how is not revealed to me, I only know there is more to be shared.

Several sweet kisses later Erik at last begins to deepen the kiss. Tingles begin from the contact point of our mouths and radiate outward until every nerve is alive and electrified. I am so helplessly caught by Erik's tender seduction I am unable to raise a finger let alone wrap my arms around him as a normal lover would do. Lover? I am getting ahead of myself.

Drawing back from me I feel his breath on my wet lips. My eyes remain closed so I can savor every second of our first and second kisses. Abruptly I am brought back to earth as Erik says with shame, "I am so sor…"

Before he can utter that damning sentence I place my fingers over his mouth. When his eyes lock on mine I say with earnest conviction, "Erik I am not sorry at all for our kiss. The only thing I am sorry for is that you imagine I did not want them. Did it seem as if I pushed away from you? Did I give the impression that I was struggling to get away? If anything I do believe I participated and would not mind doing so again."

There, I could not have said it any plainer. I want him, every part of him, not just his genius. As his stare keeps me frozen in place I begin to despair. Suddenly I hear a groan and before I can blink Erik sweeps me into a very tight embrace and covers my lips not gently as before but crushingly. His tongue delves between my lips when I gasp in surprise. Oh how much better this is. I adored our first sweet nips at the apple called seduction but this… this is a hundred times better.

Places left barren of touch or feeling for untold years are suddenly alive with sensation. I am on fire and do not wish to put out the flames.

I should have been the one to call a halt but it is Erik who finally releases us from our emotive exchange. I cannot remember taking any mind altering drugs but I imagine the way I feel is much like one of those addicts plaguing Paris.

Dropping back to the mundane reality of life we are now faced with the problem of…well the problem of how to face one another. I am unable to look at him just as he is unable to look at me. He fiddles with some books straightening them unnecessarily while I tangle my nervous fingers in my skirt.

Clearing his throat Erik commands me, "Do not forget to come here after rehearsal."

I nod in what is surely an imbecilic manner. As if I could or would forget. This means we will share a meal once more. Thinking about it I am not certain if I took one bite. Probably my nerves drove out any hunger pangs I might have otherwise have had. All that mattered at the time was that Erik enjoyed what I prepared and that he kept talking to me.

Unaware of where I am going I feel lighter than air. Without warning I receive a sense of urgency concerning Erik. What could be wrong? When I left him he looked pale and had sunk down onto the piano bench rather hurriedly. Oh why did I not question him or take more notice of his pallor. Still floating on a cloud from what Erik and I had just shared I left Erik possibly dying from some…some…Oh there are too many horrible diseases to count that run rapid down here because of all the rats.

It feels that I only had time to blink once then I arrived at Erik's home. Instinct leads me to his divan where he is sprawled out with his arm covering the upper portion of his face. Did something happen to his eyes? Did he have some sort of brain malfunction? Did I do this? Was it those passionate kisses we shared? We were both highly volatile during and after. Perhaps Erik has a weak heart? No, I would have known if he did. I also would have detected any oncoming illness.

Touching him with my shaking fingers he groans and mumbles something I am not able to decipher. He seemed fine earlier if a little pale. Willing him to fight off whatever frailty possesses him appears to be affective as he removes his arm from his face.

Oh Lord above Erik has left off the mask. Sitting back on my haunches I drop my hands to my lap. Trying not to look at him is hard when seeing his face is all I want to do right now. He knows it doesn't matter to me as I of necessity touched that festering misshapen flesh during his recent illness. He has been conditioned to strike out before he can be hurt. He had wanted to trust Christine with his secret but she had not been strong willed enough to fight against her fear of him and then there was Raoul looking so handsome and behaving so gentlemanly with her, Erik did not stand a chance.

Feeling woozy myself I suppose I may have caught whatever Erik has. While he recovers some color I feel as if my life's blood has been drained from my veins. Blindly Erik reaches out his hand as if trying to find me. Eagerly I clasp his hand within my own and bring it to my chest. I care very little if this is proper or not. Erik is not likely to brand me a harlot for holding his hand.

"You came back. I dreamed I called for you. Gabriella what is it about you that draws me while at the same time instills an unsettling dread in me?" There is real pain in his voice and bewilderment. I am sure Erik is not used to being left in the dark about anything for long. Will he unravel my secret? I do not want to know. All I want is the future Erik and I might share, the future I have seen many times in strange visions that seem so real I weep when they fade away.

"Erik I will always come for you," tearfully I reply. My answer had been long in coming as I became trapped in Erik's eyes. I wanted to feel his lips on mine once more but not even I am that bold.

"Kiss me," he commands as if reading my mind.

"What…You…You are ill," I fumble feebly trying to stall so I can collect my runaway emotions. If I kiss him now it will not be long before I am joining him on that divan.

"Are you afraid you will catch what I have or is it something else? Did I misread what happened earlier? Did it even happen? I am a little weak and fuzzy headed but I do feel better," he whispers in that way that sends shivers up and down my spine. If he is trying to seduce me then he is succeeding far more than he realizes.

Leaning down I do kiss him as I focus my mind on healing him. This time our kiss does not reach the fiery depths of our last encounter. Neither of us gets singed by fire.

Reluctantly Erik removes his restraining hand from where it held me fast to him. As if I would struggle. Removing myself from temptation I go into the kitchen and brew some tea adding lemon and three spoonfuls of sugar. Delivering the tea I then make my way to Erik's water closet to draw him a hot bath. Seeing the towel he had used the last time he bathed I bring to my nose to inhale his scent. I want to return to our former occupation but know I cannot. Erik needs his rest; after all he has two students now and an opera to perfect. What we have seen and heard so far is brilliant.

Madame Giry assures everyone we shall meet the great maestro soon. He is recovering from an accident and needs time to heal completely. We have been warned he wears bandages that cover most of his face. She told us it would take many months for his wounds to begin to heal. Infection being the doctors number one concern Monsieur Destler would be wearing the protective gauze covering until it is deemed safe to do otherwise.

Now I know this mysterious benefactor is Erik but have to play along for the time being. If Erik tells Madame of our association then I will take that as a sign he cares for me just a little. As a child he told her everything. Even as he reached his mid teens he confided in her. Only later as Madame fell in love and married did Erik draw away almost completely from her. When Meg arrived his sorrow came full circle as it pointed out that his savior and only friend would move away from him. Family came before friends. How alone and deserted Erik felt. All of this is known to me even though I was not here during that time. Maybe I heard Madame speaking to someone about him.

The ache in my head and the feeling of dread leave me weak. I swear I can see through my skin right down to my bones. I really must be ill if I am hallucinating. Time for an illness is not something I will tolerate. My focus will be on performing to the best of my ability and watching over Erik. To that end I begin my vigil over him. He need not know I am hovering about. When pressed I can appear to fade into the walls much as Erik does.

Contrary to my instructions Erik leaves his sickbed to attend rehearsals and begin Christine's lesson. Raoul pitched such a fit when he heard she would be alone with some stranger. I was not hard to pick up on his concerns that this unknown man might be his nemesis the Phantom. Oh if he only knew.

As the weeks pass I lose any concern I have that Erik may fall under the spell of Christine's charms once more. Although we have not shared any more kisses the idea is a silent acceptance between us that at some point we will come together but Erik being who he is it will take much to convince him that someone can care for him as a person.

I always make sure to touch Erik in a manner that only someone sure of their welcome would chance. I have even been so bold to tell him how handsome he is wearing debonair evening wear. I prefer him with only his white loose fit shirt and black trousers with his hair a little mussed. In a child the blush coating his cheeks would be adorable. In a grown man such as Erik it is devastatingly alluring. I want to kiss that spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Someday I will explore that fascinating area very thoroughly. Until then I am going to enjoy every day Erik and I have together as we get to know one another better and he begins to trust me more.

Christine and I have grown closer with time. How young and alive I feel. Our conversations are all about how wonderful our teacher is and how far we have come under his tutelage. Meg joins us for our hen parties. Our squeals of laughter recounting Carlotta's many mishaps with Erik are so loud they must travel down the hallway and out into the auditorium. Not wanting to be labeled as completely without feelings where she is concerned I confess that I admired her voice when she first won a place on stage in Italy. That was just before she came here and ran head on into the whirlwind that is Erik.

Christine uses her wiles on Raoul to abate his concerns. She has even been gradually speaking of her teacher from before. Little by little she reveals just who her newly acquired teacher really is. At first Raoul stormed around the room shouting out curses and threats. Calm reason from Christine slowly cooled his anger and fear. After all if Erik wanted to take her would he not have done so already? One cannot argue with logic and come out looking rational. Raoul need not know Erik had planned to lure Christine to him or that Christine is still a little in love with Erik.

Finally I feel my world is coming together as it should have been. Peace such as I have never felt before gives me hope that everyone will follow the path they were meant to travel. I will travel the same road as Erik.

**A/N: Getting so close to the end now. The mystery will be revealed, hearts will be broken, angels may heal those left to suffer. The time for fate to step in and balance the scales is fast approaching. The angels shall weep but all will come right in the end. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Too Late for Turning Back**

**Erik**

Time away from Gabriella has become less attractive than it had been when we first met. Little things that occur are revealing things to me that are not possible. My mind has not lost cognitive reason and yet I am leaning toward the fantastic as the truth.

I cannot escape from what I know is happening to me even if I wanted to. I am falling in love with Gabriella and it frightens me. So much hurt came with my last foray into the love arena. I will not go through that again. So much is different about my relationship with Gabriella that my mind and heart war with my reason.

Night after night that stack of papers that might reveal all about Gabriella beckons me but I resist as dread of finding some truth I feel I already know keeps me from picking up one page or poster. Constant contact with her is revealing information to me that I am not certain is something that happened or something I dreamed. For something my mind created those situations seem very real.

Things are finally coming together for me. Life is becoming what I wanted all my life and did not dream that I would get any of those things. I fear if I let myself believe in it then something will come along and snatch it away leaving me with a hollowness that no amount of drink or tears will fill again.

One night on my regular weekly visit to Madame Giry the strangest thing happened. I was unprepared and at first acted poorly and as my common sense at last piped up my relationship with my savior had been renewed. While I gathered my thoughts to present her with instructions for the following week she caught me off guard when she casually said, "Monsieur Destler, is it not time we dispense with all this formality? Have I not earned the right to address you by your given name?"

"Madame we are not friends we are colleagues in this opera house. Your position is to carry out my orders, nothing more. Did you not betray my trust once? Am I to open myself to my Judas again?" disdain for her proposal leaves no doubt how I view our relationship. Alright I behaved poorly. I freely admit that. Not at first but later when I had time to sift through everything we said.

"Erik we are more than associates working to bring glory to this place. We have known one another for twenty-eight years. In all that time I only betrayed you once and believe me it was the hardest thing I ever did. I had to choose between saving my adopted daughter and the man I saved as a boy and considered my son," she counters my accusation with heartfelt sincerity.

This sort of conversation makes me uncomfortable. Our past relationship was easy to understand as we knew where the boundary lines were drawn and neither of us dared cross them. Now she proposes we erase the barrier between us thus blurring what our place is in this world we have created. I could not answer her without giving it careful thought. After all it is my life hanging in the balance.

"You may call me Erik and with your permission I shall address you as Antoinette," I surprise her by using her given name for the first time. Likely she is wondering how in the devil I know what her first name is. I will not tell her that years ago I snuck into the room they used to keep pertinent information before they remodeled and built the library which also houses the room where all papers are archived for safe keeping.

"Erik," she says my name as if she is testing the taste of it on her tongue. It must please her for she smiles at me for a moment before becoming her old gruff self instructing me to show her the papers she will need to read and analyze.

How strange it is to have someone else addressing me as if I were a normal man living a normal life. Gabriella makes my name sound like a caress. In fact when she speaks my whole body is overcome by- complete chaos. Everything speeds up when she is present. Similar to what Christine made me feel but more intense and by far less destructive. I suppose the difference is that now I know I am not in danger of being rejected.

Once Madame, no, Antoinette and I settle the matter of how we will greet one another we settle down to sifting through the mounds of notes I took earlier during rehearsal. Not all of the opera is written or the music composed so rehearsals are limited to what I have written so far. It is enough to keep everyone busy.

Leaving her to create her own list of tasks that I gave her it is time for me to leave. As I head for my usual mode of exiting Antoinette suggests offhandedly, "Would not the door work just as well Erik? Now that you are going to be the toast of all Paris should you not begin to accustom yourself to doing things in the normal way?"

"Indeed Antoinette as you say, I am now a member of society, or will be soon. No more dark mausoleums for me," confidence straightens my spine while giving an air of command to my appearance.

Walking down the hallway no one is about. I wonder what they would say if they did? Would they still remember the pathetic unmasked rejected lover from my failed attempt to win Christine? I am not yet ready to face anyone other than the four women who already know about me. I trust them to keep my secret.

Ideas for music and even a ballet are jumbling around inside of my head. Creativity has always been easy for me but now ideas are flowing so fast I am hard pressed to keep up with them. I am not a choreographer so will bow to Antoinette's expertise in that area. I will not have my manager pay the ballet corps for sitting idle while getting fat on my chef's gourmet cuisine. They must earn their keep which is why there will be dancing in this production as well as a matinee featuring a ballet I am working on.

The storyline came to me one night while trying to remember why Gabriella is so familiar. It is a love story with a tragic plot. As much as I wanted to produce only gaiety this story has a mind of its own. It is as if it had been waiting for just the right moment to be released from my subconscious.

Reminders of that story bring me back to things I would rather not know. I am moving down toward my study where I keep the objects of my dreams and hallucinations. Strangely drawn to those forbidden papers I circumvent them as I pace around my study. Now I wish I had burned them. Glancing toward the fireplace mantle in plain sight is a box containing wooden matches. All I would need to do is strike one and all this angst would be over. I could put this behind me and forget any theories or suspicions about what I imagine I know about Gabriella.

The need to know wins over self-preservation. A part of me already knows what I will find among all the letters and other written documents. What I believe is not possible but my eyes and what I know negate what the laws of reality show to be true in a normal world. When has my world ever been normal?

One after the other I force myself to read every word and look at every picture. As painful as it is I let my lost memories come back to me. My heart feels as if it has shattered. I don't want to believe but cannot deny what is right in front of me laid out in printed words of truth.

Everything I am feeling urges me to rid the world of this truth. Perhaps if I do then I can take some drug to rid me of every painful detail clearly revealed to me in the last three hours.

Angry at God and the world I swipe my hand across my desk scattering the papers around the room just as my heart has shattered and been tossed in a sea of despair. By turns I curse God and every deity I have ever heard about. Why should one take precedence over another? I hate them all and the false piety their believers spread around the world. Religion, what good did it ever do me? Belief in good, what use is it to me? Nothing good that crossed my path ever stayed long enough for me to enjoy my good fortune. It stayed only long enough to rend my heart with agony when it ended.

First my own mother rejects and reviles me declaring in front of a priest I am something evil that had taken root in her womb to take her soul and that I would do the same to anyone foolish enough to think me only a boy. Her damning me so positively swayed a man of the cross who should have known better to close his eyes and ears when my mother revealed her plan for me in the confessional. That heretic chose to condemn me to six years of hell all because my face gave credence to my mother's accusations. His devotion to his God lacked conviction.

Release comes to me in tears once again. Not one tear I shed as a child erased all the nights my captives beat me, starved me, they displayed me as they did the animals. Not one tear I shed for Christine washed away one minute of the agony my soul suffered loving her in vain then losing her. Death did not answer my pleas for mercy as the God everyone praises for his divine benevolence turned his back on me also.

Only Gabriella showed me a kinder world existed. Yes I knew all along she drifted around like some ghost. I did not want to see what stared me right in the face. To believe such things lead to knowledge I could not face so I buried it so deep only Gabriella coming to me as she did forced me to face what I knew all along.

Others will decry a madman has taken reign over the opera house once more. To speak of what I know fills me with such sorrow for I fear that telling my truth and Gabriella's truth will send my world up in a puff of smoke.

Slamming my fists against the sides of my head I try to beat everything out but only succeed in causing my head to ache. Maybe if I feel enough physical pain I can push back all that I revealed tonight. For so many years it remained dormant when it would not have mattered yet now it surfaces and will destroy what little happiness I have been able to find.

I know we do not have long but I shall endeavor to make whatever time we do have filled with only joy. Gabriella must have her night on stage as she was meant to be. Her chance had been taken from here by an act so violent and unnecessarily vile the words spoken aloud will be almost blasphemous.

Dropping my head down on my folded arms I give way to my grief. Just this one time will I let my emotions rule me where Gabriella is concerned. She will not hear what needs to be told from me until the time is right. Any sooner and none of us will get what we want or need. I will lose something very precious but will also gain something, redemption. One selfless act will cleanse my blackened soul. This act is of such magnitude surely even God must pardon me from my past sins.

As much as I deny him and revile him I am just like most of humanity. While denying such a powerful being there is a place in all of us that lives a kernel of doubt. When in pain or despair becomes unbearable it is his name we call out for mercy and guidance. Even I am guilty of this. I pray my belief is proven wrong. Gabriella will be safe from harm from any living being.

Regret for not having killed the one person who Gabriella feared most sooner is a bitter pill I will have to swallow and live with the result until the day I die.

My course is set. Over the next few months I will store every minute and commit every aspect of Gabriella to memory. Where once I drew pictures of Christine now I work long into the night caressingly stroking the curve of Gabriella's lips, the length of her slender neck, those alluringly placed freckles that cause her so much despair and all her many assets. If it is all I am to have to commemorate our short time together then these will be masterpieces fit for any gallery. No other eyes shall see them but mine. This part of Gabriella is mine and mine alone. Capturing her soul on canvas and drawing pads will give me some comfort in the lonely days that will come with her farewell.

She will not at first comprehend what I say is the truth. Only after showing her what I have seen and read will it gradually begin to dawn on her just what happened. I must be cruel to be kind. It must come down to me to reveal why she has not left the opera house in over twenty years. Through me her heart will be broken when she knows we will not grow old together or share the joy of children. It will be me, her Erik, her love who destroys her hopes and dreams and condemns both of us to a future God or fate or whatever universal being controls these things planned from the moment Gabriella and I took our first breaths.

Every day Gabriella's voice becomes more heavenly and less earthly just as I thought Christine's did not so long ago but with one difference, Gabriella is a true Angel of Music. Only God could create such perfection. I am only the instrument to lead her to the path so she may use her instrument properly.

I sense that Gabriella wants to move our relationship forward and I would like for that to happen too but hesitate to commit something I feel is a sin in the eyes of God, a God Gabriella believes in unreservedly even if we have not spent hours discussing such things.

This night is no different. I can find no flaw in her performance. Why should she not perform it well as this is her story, her life, her ending?

Playing a piece we both like she suddenly stops singing. I continue on as sometimes she likes to listen to the music. Feeling her arms come around my neck I know I am in trouble. Temptation has been beating at my door for many weeks with no help from Gabriella.

Her lips caressing my ear as she kisses me nearly has me falling forward onto the piano keyboard. A soft breath of warm air wafts against my skin raising gooseflesh and other things I will not mention.

"Erik I want to sit with you on the divan. I promise I will not seduce you," she lies even as her tongue slides warm and wet over my ear. Sharp teeth nip my lobe increasing my ardor. The woman is dangerous, dangerous to my peace of mind.

Resistance is futile so I turn and grasp her around the waist so I can pull her across my lap. Freedom to do such things did not come easily to me. It took Gabriella several bold attempts at seduction to win me over. Honestly it did not take all that much. I wanted to be persuaded to take what she offered me so freely.

Lovemaking is not something I have experienced and my experience with kissing is almost nonexistent as well. I find delight in knowing the woman in my arms is just as innocent as I am. No other man has touched her in the ways she lets me touch her, no, begs for my touch. There have even been times when that little temptress has positioned my hand on the soft mounds of her bosoms. Daringly I had slid my hand underneath her bodice and felt warm flesh beneath my callused fingertips. For a moment I wished for my hands to be as soft as de Chagny's must be for he does not do manual labor nor does he play any string instruments. My love's groan of pleasure changed my mind.

That night we both nearly lost our heads. We ended up sprawled across my bed without either of us being aware of it. Only when reason somehow returned to me did I manage to pull away from Gabriella. Gradually my kisses and caresses became less demanding and more tender explorations, ones of discoveries and not used to ignite our passions again.

Gabriella made no protest and even managed to get enthusiastic about roaming over my unattractive map work of scaring from both the whips and hot pokers that seared my tender young flesh as a child. Sweet salutations from her lips seemed to heal them although I may be prejudiced for I know she healed the hurt little boy still lurking inside of me. We heal each other although she does not realize what I do for her but it has been revealed to me. A life-force is an amazing thing. I give to Gabriella as she gave to me at times. I have to be careful and not give too much of myself. I cannot lose sight of what must happen. Easily my resolve could be compromised by my yearning to keep this woman beside me for eternity but for her sake I must make the sacrifice of letting her go.

Before things can go too far I break away from Gabriella to go into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on the stove. I hate tea but need the distraction and cannot risk drinking anything more substantial lest I lose all my inhibitions.

Christine has been much more attentive to me to Raoul's chagrin and Gabriella's displeasure although she does not speak of it to me or Christine. I am sure she knows any concern she may have is unfounded but like me she will feel the same toward anyone of the opposite sex who spends longer than seems necessary in our company.

The night of the premier for The Angel's Choice is in one week. That is all the time we have left. I will not do as Gabriella wants and take her innocence knowing what is to come. Proof of how much I have grown is that I put my own wants and needs aside and consider only hers. I did something similar for Christine when I let her go the first time and when I accepted the second time we could not be lovers but we could be friends.

I do not know if I can survive for long without her but I shall try not to cowardly take the easy way out. There is still so much for me to do. Antoinette and I have arranged for me to meet everyone connected with the production. If I do not become physically ill I shall walk onto that stage with my head held high all the while keeping my eyes firmly on my beautiful Gabriella.

No regrets no surrender come what may.

**A/N: When I wrote this I almost cried. As I edited it I cried without reservations. I felt Erik's pain more and his sacrifice meant more the second time around. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Haunted Memories**

**Gabriella**

Erik has been behaving oddly. Informing me that he would be at rehearsals today did not surprise me but I nearly swooned when he said he would be greeting his employees before we rehearse. My petty side rears its ugly head to wonder if Christine played a greater part in Erik's new found confidence or is it all due to me? Charitable inclinations force me to see it is likely a combination of the two.

In my heart of hearts I know Erik loves me. He tells me so every chance he gets and shows me in a hundred different ways. Not in grand gestures but in the small personal things, things that are special only to me.

Proof he is not afraid to declare his intentions came when he told Madame about how he felt, or Antoinette as he calls her. I could never be so bold as to address her as such. If truth be told she scares me a little. There are times when I wonder how Meg and Christine made it in their childhood without hunkering underneath their beds when she would go into one of her dressing down lectures of one of the chorus girls or ballet rats. I have seen and heard her in action. All I can say is, I am glad I am on the right side of her and intend to stay that way. Naturally Meg and Christine find it hilarious that I find Madame so disconcerting. Even Erik has teased me. Assurances from him that her bark is worse than her bite I dismiss as like I said I have seen her in action. She is a sight to behold.

Every time Erik and I are together there is this fear in the back of my mind that this might be the last time we will see one another. It hasn't helped that I think I might have developed some mental instability. Voices float around me when no one is near. There are two distinct voices, both are female. At first I only had the sensation I was being watched then started hearing those darn whispers. The words were not clear until today. Now I hear them saying in an urgent manner, "Release him. Let Erik go."

Pressure to be my best when performing in Erik's first legitimate opera must be taking its toll on me. So far these apparitions have only come to me when I am alone. What I would do if they came while in the company of others disturbs me as I have no answer. I do not know how to deal with them alone or in company. For now I choose to ignore them or as much as one can when being bombarded by unseen tormentors.

I cannot imagine Erik informing anyone of just how he managed to get behind the walls all over the opera house so he could eaves drop on anyone he chose. I have ruled out a prank for this reason. Besides who would have the nerve to invade Erik's realm uninvited?

Pretending ignorance only makes them more persistent. Today walking along minding my own business there appeared in front of me two women, oddly familiar women and very oddly transparent. Now my eyes are joining my fractured brain in deceiving me. I should feel frightened but I am not, just unsettled. I do not fear they will harm me but fear what message they come to deliver to me. Now more than ever I am plagued with the idea that my time with Erik grows short. I cling to him desperately every night. Each night I pray this will be the night he relents and allows me to stay with him.

When Christine held his interest if she had crooked her little finger he would have had the bed warmed and the covers turned back. All I get is a sorry, thank you but no. Of course he puts it in less hurtful words but they boil down to the same thing, he will not make love to me.

I can have all the kisses and cuddles I want but I am forbidden to use my wiles on him so that I tempt him to go against his principles. Principles, Erik has principles now? My influence I suppose. My own proclivities come back to bit me. If I had known he would be so adamant about this subject I would have played the harlot from the beginning. Maybe not, as then he would not have found me so pleasing believing I played to other men's wants and needs as I did to his. Erik does not like to share anything he thinks of as his personal property, not that he thinks of me as property but he does want me exclusively and that is fine by me because the feeling is mutual.

At night now when I think I am asleep my dreams are visited by those two ghostly figures I see during my waking hours. Shall I never have piece? Before they were mere flickering images I could hardly see or hear now they are becoming more vocal and have more substance.

Before I began hallucinating it did not bother me that if asked I could not tell anyone where I spent my nights other than wandering the tunnels and corridors of the upper levels. I must sleep although I wake and there is not so much as a pallet of blankets or pillow for me to lay my head upon. Do I sleep standing up? So much about me is odd and makes no sense when compared with how others live.

With my dressing room providing a small but luxuriously made bed I do not find it in the least tempting. I try to lie down but soon must get up and move around. I hate the feeling of stillness that sleep represents. I will rest when I am...I won't finsih that sentence for any price.

During one of my unsettling dreams I awoke coated in what must be perspiration. This is another anomaly for me. Recalling what I dreamed about filled me with such terror I had to go to Erik. Almost instantly I found my way into his bedchamber. I had no thought about disturbing his sleep. All I knew was I had to have his arms around me. Since I awoke in one of his many tunnels I assume I am a sleepwalker.

Sitting on the side of the bed I shook his shoulder, not gently but violently in the midst of my terror still. He woke and I began to cry. Immediately he scooted over and I did not hesitate to lay beside him. How warm and safe he made me feel at his first touch. All my fears calmed, only leaving a vague memory of what it was that frightened me so. This night Erik would have given in to me but for tonight I only wanted his arms holding me giving me a rock to cling to in this world that had suddenly become less grounded in reality than felt comfortable.

Kissing my forehead he asks, "What is wrong my love? What brought on this attack of nerves? I know this place can play on ones imagination if you let it."

I could have told him nervousness was the least of my worries. This emotion far outweighed mere nervousness. Something lurks just beneath the surface of my mind that I feel will forever change what I know or think I know to be real. Because I cannot for the moment share what really has shaken me to my core I lie to him for the first time.

"It was just a silly dream. I cannot even remember what it was. These things always seem so real when we first wake but when common sense returns we know they are only dreams and cannot harm us," how insincere I sound. Lying is not something that comes naturally to me and Erik is a very perceptive man.

Erik rolls over so he can watch my face. I can see by his furrowed brow that I have not put his worries to rest where my wellbeing is concerned. Cupping my face he tenderly kisses me. Rising up so we are eye to eye he asks, "You know that I will not judge you no matter what you tell me. If something worries you then it worries me even if I am not clear what it is. I will not push for you to tell me now but know that I am here and will listen to whatever you need to make known to me. I will be here for you always."

The words should soothe me but a part of me knows that Erik may mean them but he does not control what will happen in the future and I feel deep in my bones time is something we have very little of and need to savor every second we can. Why I feel this way I do not know I only know I feel it strongly.

Seeking to ease the moments tension I ask, "Erik if you could have a perfect life what would it be?"

He did not give any length to consider his answer for he replied immediately with, "My perfect life would begin right here. We would sleep until our bodies told us it was time to wake and not live by clocks or occupations. We would marry over due coarse, have healthy, happy children with God's blessing, grow old together and when our time on earth is done we would close our eyes and take a last breath as one to be rejoined in whatever is beyond this plane of existence."

How perfectly he has worded what is in my heart. This closeness we have has no rhyme or reason. I am a great believer in fate and destiny but also believe we have control of our lives to a certain degree. Fate dealt Erik a raw deal but he made a life out of what he had. Me, I am sure what fate had planned for me is not the life I had been meant to live. Sometimes I feel as if I am killing time waiting for some great revelation. I dread it and long for it at the same time.

I cannot remember much of my childhood and only snippets of my life here at the opera house. Erik can remember almost everything from his childhood but chooses to bury it so he need not think of it. When he shared those intimate and horrible details I wept, felt anger and at last felt utter compassion toward him. I did not pity him for I know he would hate that.

Hoping I did not offend him I asked if I might see those scars on his back and legs. I know there are some across his buttocks but do not care to remember how I came to know of them. For both our sakes it is best to let our memories of my care of him during his illness fade. Naturally I saw him naked but I am not a voyeur so did not carefully inspect him for any flaws.

Reluctantly he caved to my wishes. Ever so slowly he unbuttoned his shirt. Lord above if he had one more button I swear I would have lost control and attacked him. What had been an innocent request suddenly turned into something so intensely seductive I had to gasp as my chest heaved from the stimulation of Erik revealing his flesh one inch at a time.

Having gotten what I want it is now debatable if I can carry out what I had planned without behaving like a woman of the streets or at the least a woman hungry for a man's touch. Lord knows I could spend hours out of each day looking my fill of Erik. I have done so in the past while he slept but at those times he had been fully clothed.

At first I use only my eyes to travel over his skin noting those places where some instrument of torture had been used on the young innocent boy Erik had once been. Poor Erik is holding his breath waiting for me to lay my hands on him. Maybe this was not my brightest idea. Thinking it through would have shown me the pitfalls of feeling Erik's strong muscles beneath my eager hands. My lips tingle just contemplating kissing along the length of his scars. I will not let my mind travel to other uses for women's mouths. I am not a prude and have not been living in a shelter cut off from the world. There have been times I listened in on the more mature and less restrained girls. If Madame had known of this I am sure she would have placed a padlock on the dormitory doors and a guard outside the door.

Perhaps she did know. She did keep a rather close eye on Christine and Meg. Her only concession to them meeting with men had been when Erik requested permission to teach the very young Christine and then when Raoul came back riding his white horse to rescue his lady love.

For a man who lived beneath the earth Erik is still a striking man. All that climbing and swinging from one catwalk to the other hardened his muscles in a way that normally would have come about through the labor of a working man. Erik has talent but even he would have had to do manual work in the beginning.

Pleasure beyond expressions rushes over me when he shivers beneath my hands. Gripped by some private ecstasy he closes his eyes to intensify the pleasure. Coarse hair prickles the palms of my hands as they glide freely over him. Although pale he does not have the pallor of illness. Erik rarely lets the sun shine on him. Something I hope to change given enough time. I could use a little sun myself.

A slight touch on his shoulder and he rolls to his stomach. Pain grips me as I imagine how Erik suffered terribly with every blow. Jagged scarring in several places gives evidence that he had been stabbed with some sharp object. The wounds were poorly cared for leaving worse scars than he would have had if someone had taken the time to clean and dress them properly.

Mothers kiss their children's little hurts better and that is what I try to do for Erik with every press of my mouth to his misshapen flesh. If I could take them onto my own body I would. I would take every horrible pain filled moment onto my own self if it meant he could live without carrying such things around to drag him down mentally. They make him feel unworthy of having anyone care about him.

Praise for his attraction I make sure is carried in every word I whisper as I heal battle scars a poor child should not have suffered and a man should not feel shame for bearing them.

Having retraced his torso many times I must cease my exploration for neither Erik nor I can withstand much more stimulation. Leaning away from him I straighten my mussed bodice I had not known had come undone. If Erik had tempted me while unbuttoning his shirt the fire in his eyes told me my replacing my own buttons in their proper place lit the fire of desire in him.

"I hope this proves just how attractive you are to me. As much as I would rather not have it known to you other women will find you attractive as well, Christine being among those. Even Madame is not oblivious to your charms and do not look so skeptical. I have seen the way she watches you when you have your back to her. It is not your Punjab holding her interest. The woman would have you given half a chance," I confess feeling safe to disclose such knowledge now that we are committed to one another and declared our feelings.

A teasing glint in his eye precedes his teasing comment of, "So if Madame wanted to have her wicked way with me you would have no problem with that? If Christine and I decided to take in the night air on the roof and her attraction for me could not be contained and somehow we ended up in a passionate embrace it would not disturb you one iota?"

"Make no mistake I would want to scratch out their eyes. Their saving grace is that I trust you and your declaration that you love me and only me," I say with confidence.

Swiftly he reaches out snagging me around the waist to pull me back down on top of him. Breathless I laugh to my surprise. Our laughter turns to something else entirely. Now we are back in the dangerous area where passion is at its peak.

Groaning Erik kisses me passionately then suddenly releases me to say hoarsely, "Go now woman before I change my mind. I shall see you tomorrow. Be ready to impress and to have your adoring fans dropping to their knees."

Leaving him I blow him a kiss from a safe distance. Feeling lighter than air I race along the tunnels trying to rid myself of frustrated energy.

A bright flash of light blinds me momentarily. Once I am able to see I am not so sure I want to see what is in front of me. There are now three women standing before me seeming to be of substance rather than ghostly vapors. This newest member of the ghostly trio I do not recognize.

I am struck dumb as fear turns to terror. Why am I being besieged by visits from the dead if that is what I am seeing?

The dark haired one speaks first, "Gabriella it is time. You know what you must do. It is not safe for you to linger on."

"Listen to Marianna. She only speaks what you know is the truth. Search your mind and heart and all will be revealed," the petite blond one adds her warning.

"Gabriella Marianna and I have been here watching over you since you were given this second chance. It was only supposed to be for the benefit of Erik not for you to fall under his magnetism."

The name Claire resounds clearly inside my head. This woman is Claire. How do I know her name and why does the other one sound so familiar to me? Am I dreaming, under the influence of some drug or illness? None of this is possible and yet here they are having materialized out of mist. My mind is so frazzled it takes some time for me to wonder where all the celestial light is coming from. Outside of a church only Erik's old lair had such a surreal lighting ambiance.

Still the third entitiy remains silent. I feel a wave of sorrow coming from her to me. A flood of warm tenderness fills me for no apparant reason. She smiles reasurringly toward me as if to will me to trust her. She comes toward me frightening me so I loose all sense of control. I feel as if she is trying to merge with me as crazy as that sounds.

As flashes of what may be forgotten memories are revealed to me I panic and turn to run without any idea where to run to, I only know I must get away from them. To listen to them is to reveal things I am not ready to know. Tomorrow is my night to shine on stage as Erik taught me. It will be his night to shine as well.

I resist the pull of those figments of my imagination. When all is dark once more I slow my pace letting my mind randomly pick one subject after another to fill my mind lest unwanted things seep in. Whatever happens afterward I must have this one last night with Erik, this one final night of triumph for the both of us. I want to witness the world dropping to its knees to hail him as the great composer I know he is. After tomorrow the world will know it also.

**A/N: I hope everyone is not confused. I hope all will make sense all the way to the end. Suspense, heartache and yes happiness are in the future for the loving couple. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Super duper long chapter so grab a cup of coffee or soft drink and something to eat. This will take a while. You might want to have a Kleenex handy if you are the softhearted sort. **

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Angels Wept**

**Erik**

Gabriella's departure came not a moment too soon. I am not a saint nor am I an eunuch. My self-imposed gallant promise to keep Gabriella chaste is turning into a promise I am regretting every second I want to be inside her loving her as a man does the woman he cares about most in the world. If what I believe wil come to be should we not at least have that one special intimate act two people in love share to express that emotional bond?

Because I stupidly gave my word of honor, such that it is, not to deflower her until such time we shall be wed I now suffer having her and yet not being able to claim her entirely. And now...now I don't know if we will have another tomorrow.

To further complicate my life more and more about Gabriella's life is being revealed to me. As hard as it is for me to grasp such an impossibility of an after life the proof is before me in these papers recounting the life and death of one Gabriella Star. Even without finding a body the authorities made the declaration of her death public after several months without any leads as to her whereabouts. A massive search had been made in the opera house without a clue as to what happened or where she went. All her belongings were in her dressing room just as she left them. Her reticule containing over a hundred francs still sat on her dresser the day the police were called in after Gabriella missed opening night of the opera she had been given the lead role to perform.

Logic fights against what I now believe to be true. I would rather she be some vagrant pretending to be in employment here rather than to know with all my heart that the woman I know and love as Gabriella is one and the same as Gabriella Star, murdered opera performer. I know it for a fact for I saw where they buried her.

Learning about her from papers brought back memories of how and when I saw her in the past. I can remember the first time she came to audition and how impressed everyone was including me. I think I fell in love with her when I first heard her sing a piece I had written and left lying on the conductor's pedestal. Being a man with a good ear he promptly claimed my composition for his own.

He had been marked for a visit from me until Gabriella opened her mouth to let out the most entrancing sounds I ever heard. Not perfect but very nearly so. I was intrigued.

She won the role of lead without any threats or suggestions from me to the managers although at that time they did not know the full extent of my power and what I am capable of when I want something or feel threatened.

For months I watched over her and attended every rehearsal. The few years between us did not worry me. We shared a passion for music that bridged our age difference or so I told myself. I left her notes written in poetic rhyme. I shudder now remembering how naïve and youthful my aspirations were.

Watching her from behind the mirror in her dressing room she seemed to like my written offerings as well as the single red rose I left for her. Braving myself to speak with her took several weeks of starts and stutters until I finally croaked out my first greeting to her. Had I known how odd it would appear to her or how frightened she would be to hear an anonymous voice coming from behind her mirror I might have approached her differently.

It took me several more weeks to convince her that I was not an escaped lunatic from some mental institution. Just when I began to win some favor she went missing. No one knew what had happened. Even I remained in the dark for a while, that is until I found them, three unmarked fairly fresh shallow graves, one very old and two fairly fresh.

Immediately I knew that bounder Joseph Buquet to be responsible. What I had not counted on was digging them up and one being the oh so precious first love of my life. Add to that I later learned my managers back then knew of her demise but covered it up to circumvent bad publicity. Because of them Gabriella and two others had been consigned to eternity buried in unhallowed ground.

My grief had no time to be expressed as I hunted down my now sworn enemy. I could not rest until I avenged my love's lost honor and her death. Not only did Buquet take those three lives but he raped them with a viciousness even I could not comprehend. On my life I swore if I died in the attempt I would make that horrible man pay for what he had done. It took me many years to do it but in the end I kept my promise. If I had buried my memories of that time to stave off the pain at least I kept my promise.

Christine had not been my first love. My first foray into that arena came at a time when I had not yet reached my full maturity. If fate had not stepped in and taken Gabriella from me the first time I wonder if I could have won her over after she had seen me. Being older now, my appeal is different from back then. Gabriella is mine in every way that matters but perhaps it would not have ended well that first time around and some power beyond our understanding let the story unfurl as it was supposed to.

Tonight I take extra care with my appearance. I will be walking on stage and taking a bow. A speech is not necessary. Bandages will be wound around most of my head leaving only my nose, mouth and chin exposed. Everything else will be covered in white cotton strips.

No expense had been spared on my clothing. I am even going to wear a top hat. I hate top hates as I think of them as belonging on the heads of fops. I am by no stretch of the imagination a fop.

Taking my seat in box five, nervousness begins to set in. Excitement is almost a living thing among the crowd filling the seats. This will be the first performance of my work since my last great opera had been performed only part way through. This night we will reach the end without mishap. For Gabriella I want everything to be perfect.

As the story unfolds it is hard to keep my objectivity when with each line they sing time grows shorter until I must force Gabriella to see the truth so she may be saved a soulless life.

It is a wonder she did not comprehend that this is her life when she rehearsed all these months. The final scene is filled with pathos as the hero and the heroine sing their last good-byes before death reclaims her. Everyone surrounds the hero sharing his sorrow while giving him platitudes about life going on and there being a purpose and a plan to all that God does. Such assurances are easy when they are another's grief being felt and not their own.

It will be me soon who will need to be comforted when I lose my own heart to death. I must make her see it is the only way. I am a better person for having met and getting to know her. I must sound convincing when telling her I will be fine if a little battered. Truthfully I may whither and die once I do not have her to give me the will to live on.

When the curtain comes down there are no less than four curtain calls and two curtain calls with Christine and Gabriella clasping hands as they bow. A five minute standing ovation did much to fill me with pride for my achievement and the success of both my protégés. The stage is filling with flowers being tossed in a show of the audience's appreciation of their talent. Each woman is presented with a large bouquet of roses.

Now that the time has come for me to make my appearance my courage is lagging. I would have retreated back to my home but Gabriella looked toward my box as if she saw me. Christine followed Gabriella's concentrated glance. She whispered something to which Gabriella shook her head in the affirmative. I suppose Christine asked for confirmation whether or not I occupied my box. As if I would miss such an important night.

Resolving to carry out the task I must complete I have no choice but to join everyone on stage. Antoinette is waiting for me to come backstage so she can enter and calm the audience to make my introduction. I want this night to last forever but know that it cannot.

Finding Antoinette is easier than one might think in all the confusion backstage. She has taken up a position just at the curtains edge looking onto the stage. From there she can see everyone and watch everything going on making it easier to keep things moving along. Coming to her side neither one of us speaks. She leaves me alone to make her way to center stage. Lifting her hands she lowers them then raises them again then repeats the motion. Gradually the audience begins to quiet and take their seats leaving only drifts of chatter from backstage to disrupt the quiet.

"Messieurs, Madams and Mademoiselles, it is with great pleasure I introduce to you our newest maestro Monsieur Erik Destler. Without his great talent and teaching we would not be here tonight. It is my great honor to present Monsieur Destler," her voice raises at the end and she turns in the direction from which I am coming clapping her hands along with everyone else. It is deafening but also the most wonderful sound imaginable and mostly for me. Christine and Gabriella gave voice to my creation but it is my talent as a composer and teacher that made this night the success it is.

Coming to stand between Christine and Gabriella I take their hands and bow along with them. They surprise me when they both kiss me on a cheek. My bandaged face seems not to faze either of them. Women ooh and aw to see such sentiment being publicly displayed. I am sure from somewhere in one of the boxes Raoul is shooting daggers at me and glaring with suspiciousion.

A few more rounds of bows and appreciative clapping from the audience gradually winds down as people begin to leave. Cast members are eager to join the festivities backstage. Their will be no celebrating for me tonight because my ending is not going to be anything worthy of celebration.

Gabriella and I face one another and link hands. All I can do is to absorb as much of her as I can. We only have a few moments left until we must part. Already I want to change my mind and take her as far away as possible from this damn opera house. It has entombed me for so long and now it will keep Gabriella as well. At this moment I feel more cursed than ever before.

"Gabriella there is something I must say. Something we must both face if you are to be saved," my voice breaks as tears gather in my eyes.

I can feel the trembling begin in her hands then gradually travel to the rest of her body. Those left on the stage stop their conversations as it becomes clear something momentous is about to happen. From the smiles on Christine and Meg's faces they must assume some sort of announcement is eminent about Gabriella and I. Perhaps they imagine an engagement. How I wish that were the case.

Antoinette, Christine, Raoul, Meg are the only ones left besides Gabriella and I as Antoinette being a very astute woman sensed something about to happen that may be too personal to share with the whole opera house and so shooed everyone to their merry making. What I am about to do is best done among friends who will perhaps not believe at first what they see but in the end they will see there is only one conclusion to be drawn just as I had to come to the same conclusion myself.

"Erik I am frightened. Please take me home. I want to go home," she cries as she steps closer to me so her head can rest on my chest.

"In a little while my love. We must get through this so we can both have peace," I try to give her assurance even if I know I will never know peace again.

"Erik what is going on?" Antoinette worriedly asks for an explanation.

I ignore everyone except for the woman in front of me. Letting go Gabriella's hands so I can retrieve the things I left offstage earlier this evening I am stopped by Gabriella grabbing my arm beseeching me silently not to carry on. I believe she knows what it is I must do and fears the outcome just as I do. Patting her hand I give her a smile that I hope will suffice as my insides are churning and my chest is so tight with anticipated agony I can scarcely breathe.

Leaving her alone is so hard when all I want is to hold her and tell her everything will be fine. Gathering up the posters and letters I return and set the bundle down at Gabriella's feet. As if she knows what they are she moves back a couple of steps.

"Gabriella I want you to look at this and really see it. Let the truth sink in. Read the letters and newspaper reports. It is all there in black and white for you to see. You must see and believe just as I had to. I fought against what my mind told me and what my heart and eyes were letting me see," I am almost begging her to understand and forgive me for what I am about to do. I hope she realizes what a great sacrifice I am making.

"No Erik, please do not make me see them. I do not want to know. I cannot leave you. I cannot. My heart will break," she cries desperately as she steps toward me and clutches two handfuls of my shirt in her fists. I cover her hands with mine and feel a tear splash onto my skin. That tear nearly tears me apart. I am hurting her just as I am hurting myself. I must not weaken and condemn the both of us to an eternity living in purgatory.

"Erik what is going on? For goodness sakes you are beginning to frighten even me," Antoinette tries to use her official instructors voice but I am beyond being guided by anything she has to say.

There is a flash of light then incredibly two women appear as if by some magician's trick. I know them. I reburied them along with Gabriella all those years ago when the managers buried them to hide what Joseph Buquet had done. I could not bear for them to lie in eternal rest without proper words being spoken over them or placing them in such shallow graves that the vermin could feast on their flesh. It turned my stomach to think of it especially when I imagined it being Gabriella. I had not been given the opportunity to meet her face to face or discover all that was wonderful about her, not back then. I got a second chance and thank God for it even if it was for such a short time.

I know there is a fourth woman buried someplace down in the lowest level but could never find just where Joseph had put her. I wonder if she is not here as a celestial plea to Gabriella because I did not find her and pray over her as she deserved.

Silently I hand Antoinette the poster. Christine and Meg lean over her shoulders to read what it says. They all gasp and look toward Gabriella with shocked glances then return to peruse the poster again. The name is the same just as the beautiful woman pictured there is an exact replica of Gabriella Star.

My attention returns to the ghostly visions waiting what is to come next. I do not have long to wait. They address Gabriella imploring her to do the right thing.

"Gabriella it is time. You know you cannot stay. Think of what you will do to Erik. Each time you take a little more from him. Soon he will have no more to give," the blonde apparition pleads my cause.

"Gabriella you know Charlotte speaks the truth. Open your mind and see what must be, what God intended it to be. Your task ended when Erik took to the stage tonight. Now you must sever your ties with earth bound entities. It is not his time. Would you want to take from him the years ahead that will be his glorious introduction into the world of man?" This is the auburn haired one speaking. She is Marianna. I know them both. After all it is I who took care of them or rather their graves all these years. Claire, the missing angel from my repoitoire was a blonde, petite and childlike woman and Charlotte is the one with hair dark as coal. Joseph did not discriminate when it came to his victims.

"Please, give me more time. I need more time. We have only just begun to know one another. I beg of you do not make me leave him. I would rather suffer the fires of hell than leave him now," Gabriella cries out angrily as she grabs hold of me again. I can feel the pull in every part of me, the draining of my inner strength. This is what gives her substance so she could appear real to everyone, including me. I gave her life if only for a brief time.

Everyone is looking at us as if we have lost our minds. Since they are not looking toward our celestial visitors Gabriella and I must be the only ones who can see or hear them. It stands to reason as this is only of importance to the two of us.

I have no will to stop what is happening. If giving her a part of me will sustain her then I freely will give all that I can.

"Gabriella stop! You will kill him. Erik read the letters and articles. She must face the truth. It must be you who shows her the way. Do it now for both your sakes," Charlotte pleads. I remember her as a kind young woman willing to help anyone in need. Her trusting nature is what got her killed by that murderous bastard's hands.

Picking up the paper I begin to read words that cause me great agony down to my very core.

_"**Gabriella Star is believed to have been murdered and tossed into the Seine and dragged out to sea by the currents.**_

_**Everyone at L'Opéra Populaire mourns her loss as they had great expectations for her ability to bring new life to Paris' opera season. **_

_**It has been rumored that a great Italian diva is being courted to fill the role vacated by Mademoiselle Star. We mention no names as this is only speculation and rumors. **_

_**Rest in peace Mademoiselle Gabriella Star. **_

"Erik, stop please, it hurts. I feel so cold. Why is it suddenly so cold?" her pleading eyes beg me for something it is in my power to give but it is something that would condemn her soul to eternal unrest.

The costume she wore for the performance tonight transforms into a gown from a few decades ago. As I continue to read the letters of confession from a journal Gabriella's gown begins to fade and tatter in front of our eyes. Slowly it changes into a tattered remnant with yellowed lace and faded colors. Where once she stood solid and as real as any of us she now appeared transparent.

Reading from the journal is hard when the woman I love is fading into obscurity right before my pained eyes.

"**_Tonight as on two other nights Robert and I sacrificed all that is good in us to save our reputations and to keep our pockets lined with profits from the opera house._**

**_The Opera Ghost showed an interest in the latest victim, Gabriella Star, a truly great performer who would have gone far if her path had not unfortunately crossed with that bounder Joseph. I pray we do not now need to fear retribution at the hands of our very own ghost._**

**_As often as we condemn Joseph we also condemn ourselves for being so weak. Confession to my priest may absolve me in God's eyes but in my own I fear I shall rot in hell for these unholy acts. It goes against everything my mother and father taught me about the sanctity of death and giving the dead proper respect._**

**_Both Robert and I condemned our souls the night we first discovered poor Marianne lying in a deserted corridor with Joseph running away dangling the rope he used to strangle her from his hand._**

**_I had always thought of myself as a good man, an honest man but that night my true nature showed me just how black a man's soul can be. May God forgive me for I know I shall regret my part in this travesty even into eternity._**

**_If at some time in the future four shallow graves are found and someone perchance reads my journal know that Marianna Carpenter, Charlotte Blackmore, Claire Beaumont and Gabriella Star reside in that unhallowed ground and I beg of you please do after my death what I did not have the courage to do in life, bury them in sacred soil. Alas we cannot find poor Claire's resting place and dare not ask Joseph for the information. My prayers will have to be enogh to win her a place in heaven._**

The words fade into silence with barely a stirring in the air. If silence can seem to roar then I hear the rumble of thunder, the symbol clash of lightening and the sound of the heavens splitting open to rain down God's wrath upon us.

"My love I did it for you. For once in my miserable selfish existence I wanted to put someone else first. You do not belong here. Perhaps it is not for mere mortals to know what God's plan is for us. Maybe there is no plan at all and we are supposed to muddle through life making mistakes then doing what is needed to correct them. By speaking of your death aloud and making you face the truth you now can move on. Never doubt how much I love you. It would have been so easy for me to ignore all that I knew and let us go on as we were but we both know in time you would have felt out of place, out of step with your life," I am choked by tears and feel no shame to let them fall.

Gabriella reaches her hand out to me and I reach out my own only to feel thin air. The magnitude of what I have done is just now becoming a reality as untold agony rips into me leaving me raw and grieving. I survived Christine's loss with the help of Gabriella but who will save me now?

No one seems able to speak. They look to each other for confirmation that they saw what their eyes and brains are telling them they saw. What they feel or want to know is of little consequence to me. There is no word that I know that can describe just what I am feeling or perhaps there are too many. All I know for certain is I want to crawl into the grave with Gabriella but even that will be denied me as I am not one to take my own life no matter how devastated my life becomes.

Without a word I grab a rope from the back of the stage and climb upward. The rooftop is calling to me so I can shout out and curse at the world so others may know once and for all the Phantom has been defeated by the redemption of his own soul.

As I climb upward every step burns the muscles in my legs. I welcome the pain. Better pain in my body than in my heart. Perhaps death shall claim another victory tonight, victory over his long sought after demon child, the Phantom

Time crawls by with no end to my sorrow. I want only to be left alone to suffer in peace. One second after Gabriella faded away I wanted to relive those last moments again so I could change them. For her sake I am glad time travel is not something I have conquered. Time they say heals all wounds but I fear mine shall have a weeping gash that will never close completely.

Three long tortuous months have gone by and still I linger on in this world filled with nothing but regrets and an unrelenting ache. I care nothing for the fame I have now and thought I wanted. Now I would trade it all for one more moment with Gabriella.

If I thought Antoinette would leave me to my own devices how sadly mistaken I am. At first her visits were only once every few days. No amount of cursing deters her from being my angel of mercy. Having spent nearly two months tracking me down how can I expect her to be reasonable and obey my commands to leave me in peace?

Peace, what about my existence has ever been peaceful? I had though with…God it is too much to even think her name. No one dares speak it out loud, not after the first time I unleashed my anger and agony on the unsuspecting stagehand gossiping among his friends. I cared not one iota that the opera house is abuzz with news of auditions for someone new to take the place of Gabriella. I'll not be there to watch or listen. My heart is not longer in creating beauty through my music.

What right does anyone have to mention her name? He knew nothing about her or why she no longer took her part on stage. Her story is mine to tell and no one else's. Lucky for that man Antoinette and Christine happened upon us or he would have been dangling from one of the catwalks with my Punjab wrapped around his neck.

Resistance against rejoining life proved useless when I am bombarded no less than ten times a day with chattering women going on and on about the goings on above me. I want to shut them out but they are relentless.

A new soprano has been found. Antoinette hired a man to travel the globe hunting for just the right woman. The local talent had been drained leaving only second rate singers. So much for the gossip mill. Auditions woulc be superfluous.

I know everyone is trying their best to show me that life goes on and for them it may but for me the hands of time stopped the second Gabriella left me.

One evening a few nights ago, Antoinette came down all flustered and muttering things about something being impossible. At the time I couldn't raise any amount of interest. Later some of what she said must have registered for I found myself trying to recall certain pertinent bits of the conversation but drew a blank.

Glancing at the clock I see that rehearsals will still be in session. I might as well attend so I may see this new paragon Antoinette is so flustered about. Since she has not seen fit to bother about me in several days I assume her vigil over me is at an end along with everyone else's.

Even Christine has not been in my thoughts lately. I cannot find the energy to wonder if she carries on with her role or not. Vaguely I remember Antoinette saying something about a wedding and talk of a child and stepping down into the supporting role as that would leave Christine more time to plan everything.

I did summon enough of my former concern for Christine to silently vow if that boy violated Christine before the ink dried on the marriage license and the marriage had been blessed by the church I will not hold back my anger. I have marked the date on my mental calendar for future reference should a child be in the offing. I will not have any early arrivals needing hurried explanations to cover for an over eager fiancé.

My box is as I left it, looking as if it had been in the path of a mighty wind. If everyone thought it haunted before now they must fear it even more. I must say the night I ripped out the curtains and left the contents in a shambles leant credence to speculation of a ghost haunting this particular box. In the old days I would have gleefully encouraged such notions now I find it matters little what anyone thinks of me. If they wish to continue to believe in a ghost then let them. I feel more ghost than man most of the time anyway.

There is little going on down on the stage to hold my interest. Antoinette is her usual no nonsense dance instructor. Meg has been promoted to that position but her mother is not prepared to relinquish that role completely to a younger woman even if she is her daughter. Christine and Meg whisper to one another gossiping as they used to in the old days before I came along and spoiled such youthful pleasures.

I hear the name Ella Stern being called from center stage. The sound of skirts rustling from below carries up to me as there is a sudden silence from everyone below. A short time later I hear whispers begin to travel and grow until the sound is quite loud. If Antoinette had not taken the guilty parties to task I would be tempted to do so myself.

Gradually music builds leading into the introduction of the first song from my opera. Shock waves shake me to the core when I hear a familiar voice drifting up toward me. At first it is hesitant then slowly confidence takes over so that there is no doubt we are in the presence of a great talent, one I know all too well and know that this cannot be. Unless I am now to be haunted from the grave by the woman I returned to death, what I hear is not real but only my wishful imagination playing mean spirited tricks on me.

I fight against the urge to see the face belonging to such an angelic voice. My heart thunders with hope yet my mind is telling me what I am wanting is impossible.

Standing I take the few steps needed to reach the railing enclosing the box. Leaning my hands down for support I am not yet ready to open my eyes and end this unexpected gift. Will she disappear if I open my eyes? Will I be disappointed if I do and the woman looks nothing like my beloved Gabriella?

Slowly my eyes open then focus on the stage below. From here I can see everyone but not clearly. Damn it, I broke my opera glasses during my tirade. To see her better I will need to make my way onstage or at least be nearer to her.

If this is some joke being played at my expense heads will role, literally. Not even I could be that cruel. Easily I avoid everyone. I want no witnesses to my sorrow when my hopes are dashed. I dare not let myself believe what my mind and heart is telling me. As I get closer I can feel the old familiar pull within me that I always felt when Gabriella came near. It was as if we were connected by an electrical charge that got stronger when we were together.

Peeking out from behind a curtain my knees feel unstable and I feel light headed. There she stands just as beautiful as she was before. Can it be possible for two people unrelated to share perfectly replicated features?

This must be a sickness in my mind or my grief is such I cannot face reality anymore so that in order to cope I have conjured this image of Gabriella. Why now has she come back to haunt me? Punishment for my betrayal I could understand but this…this goes beyond what I deserve…what anyone deserves.

Going from person to person I search with my eyes for some culprit who would try to pass off some woman as a replacement for Gabriella and can see that everyone else is just as amazed and shocked as I am. Antoinette is jerking her head around like an owl trying to find me in all my usual places above the stage. It would not occur to her that I would come down onto stage level and risk being seen. Clearly she fears for the new soprano's safety. Her concern is valid and even more so for the instigator of this prank.

I shall investigate this on my own. Mademoiselle…what did they say her name was? My lack of concentration to the point I am forgetful of information just imparted to me proves I am not yet in possession of all my faculties.

Easily I can obtain all the information I will need from one of the offices. The booking agent is my best bet. Once I have what I need I will be armed to face this imposter…this torturer. She and all of her accomplices shall pay the price for trying to fool the Phantom of the Opera. Yes, he is back! Back with a vengeance and all who attempt to play with him will live to regret it…at least for a short time.

All the pertinent papers are stacked neatly on the desk of the booking agent as if he expected me to come a calling. How fortuitous. Riffling through the mountain of papers I toss aside anything not related to the subject that most interests me.

In the end there is very little to be discovered. As is usual in my opera house a thorough research is done into the background of newly acquired performers. The two thin sheets of information concerning Ella Stern are hardly enough to form an opinion of her even on a cursory level. What is here could fill a thimble. No one knows very much about her at all. The supposed publicity of her infamy is bogus to say the least. No one heard of her before a few months ago when someone found her lying on a bench in front of St. Katherine's Hospital.

According to the hospital records she could not remember anything before opening her eyes, not even her name. Some kind benefactor paid for her medical care and chose her name. Said benefactor insisted on total anonymity. Once Mademoiselle Stern recuperated it was discovered she had a voice any great diva would be proud to own.

A few francs tossed about certain circles and money donated to the right organizations and Ella Stern became an international star sought by many. In the end L'Opéra Populaire won her signature on the dotted line. It is confusing to me how someone with Antoinette's savvy could be duped by this obvious con unless she is in one the con. I hardly think she would risk her daughter's career or her own.

The impossible happened once could it happen again? If I let myself believe in this miracle I will also have to believe I have won God's pardon for all my sins. Gripping the papers so tightly they crumple then rip apart I glance down bewildered by the separated paper.

I must calm myself. Letting emotions run rampant never have done me any good. Cool calm reason is what is called for now. Sitting down I straighten the paper with my hands until they are flat if slightly wrinkled and a few separated and tattered. Tracing my finger over the unfamiliar name Ella Stern I feel a tingle start in my fingertips. As it travels up my arm, the old familiar charge of electricity zips along bringing every nerve to instant response.

If this is her, my Gabriella what game is she playing? Perhaps in this new life she does not remember anything from her past life. There are religions that believe a person can live many lives without one knowing of any of them until they delve deeply into their subconscious.

We shall be together even if I have to reacquaint myself with her. Antoinette is constantly telling me not to be so dispirited as this is the time for miracles, the Christmas season. Like Ebenezer Scrooge I used to bah humbug this time of year for it held no significance for me. No kindly old man left so much as a crumb of ginger bread for me and as for believing in the mercy and sanctity of any God I had sooner believe in the darker minions because those I knew all too well.

This is my chance to prove I am worthy of a second chance. First God sent me Antoinette to save me from my living hell then along came a little angel by the name of Christine Daaé. Years later when I despaired living my long life alone and unloved another angel came to pull be back to the land of the living. Through her I learned I can be loved, my soul is not forever lost to darkness. Through her love I found my salvation, my redemption if you will. I learned that love sometimes meant sacrifice even loss of the one you love but if you believe and have faith God will show you the way.

Dropping to my knees for the first time I ask God to enter my heart and show me what I must do now. If I am only to be a guide for Ella then that is what I shall be. If I am to be something more then I shall rejoice and thank God for trusting me with someone so precious to him, secretly in my deepest heart of hearts I felt somehow Gabriella had come back to me. Whatever comes of this I hope to at least keep her near me even if it is as a friend.

Leaving the office after I put everything back as I found it I return to my home to think. I can say I am a changed man but that does not mean I do not have the normal impulses and quirks of the normal man. My pride is pricked slightly because Gabriella or rather Ella does not know of me or if she does she gave no sign that she looked toward my box.

Tonight I will pay the new ingénue a visit. If she is pretending then two can play the game of cat and mouse and I will be the cat with very sharp claws. For the first time in months my blood is rushing along my veins to cause my heart to thunder in my chest. I feel alive again.

Preparing for my 'first' encounter with Mademoiselle Stern, I take especial care with my bathing ritual and choosing just the right evening wear. Looking in the mirror, something I rarely do, I can find no fault in my appearance other than the obvious.

About to leave it dawns on me that it is not appropriate for a man to show up empty handed when first meeting a woman he admires and wishes to court. Imagine me courting. I did not so much court Gabriella as acquire her through very little effort on my part.

I haven't any roses on hand and contrary to popular belief I cannot snap my fingers and magically make things appear or disappear or rather I can but…damn it I am so nervous I am going around in circles inside my own head. I shall pay a visit to one of the dressing rooms and confiscate a rose from one of the many bouquets that have surely been delivered before the first curtain call.

Accomplishing that task is easier than any I shall take on the rest of the night. I am not one known for patience but will draw on all that I have so this night can play out at the lady's leisure.

I am pleased my box has been cleaned and everything restored to it's former pristine condition. There on the table sits a box of chocolates. Well damn it if I had known Antoinette would be going to this length to win me over I would not have risked entering some young woman's dressing room for a rose.

Imagine the gossip that would have gone round tonight if it became known the Phantom invaded the privacy of another woman's private rooms. I certainly would not want to start a new relationship with 'Ella' on a sour note.

Constantly during the performance I am fingering the rose and fiddling with the box. By the time I give her the rose it will be a poor offering at best and as for the chocolate box, I have had to retie the bow three times already. It is beginning to look a little worse for wear.

I try to distract myself by watching and listening to the performance. I do wish now I had crawled out of my pit sooner and sat in on more rehearsals. If I had by now who knows how far in my courtship I would be?

Christine is doing well taking over Gabriella's old part. She conceded to return as a favor to me. Raoul silently fumed I'll bet when he heard the news. Planning a wedding agrees with her. She looks well rested and happy. Scowling I try to discern if her middle has thickened and if so the cause of this change. At the moment I have other more important issues on my plate, namely one alluringly familiar diva.

As the evening progresses I wait for at least one telltale glance toward my box but am disappointed when everyone casts fertive glances upward and all around looking for me no doubt but the woman I want to notice does not.

Long before the end my once perfectly fine box becomes a confines equaled to a torture chamber. Leaving it I make my way directly to the dressing room set aside for the company's diva. I have many minutes to wait that do nothing for my peace of mind. Not long into my pacing my anger nears boiling point. I am not used to being played with in this way. I can honestly say I do not care for it one bit and shall make that fact known to everyone.

Light coming through to the backside of the mirror alerts me to the return of my prey. I must wait for a parade of men and other well-wishers to leave her alone before I can begin my game. I am thwarted when she begins to undo very strategically placed buttons.

Only when she goes behind her dressing screen can I take in much needed oxygen. This is going too far. If she will tempt the tiger then she had best be prepared to feel his claws.

The woman knows not what dangerous game she plays as she comes around the screen to take a seat at her vanity. What she has on is as close to nothing as can be without being naked. Shame courses through me as I recall just how little Christine wore on the night I first lured her down into my sanctuary. Even she wore more than this blatant temptress.

I have had enough. Without ceremony or warning I let myself into her room. Since her vanity is directly across from this larger mirror I am clearly reflected back behind her image. How well she carries on with this charade as she jumps to her feet in well acted surprise.

Before she can let out a scream for help if indeed that is her intention, I clamp my hand over her mouth and turn her so she is facing forward with my arm now around her waist holding her firmly against my hard arousal. I will not feel shame for feeling something any man would feel in a similar situation.

Her taught body will not distract me from my task. Gliding my hand away from her mouth l let it slid insidiously down her neck to come to rest just above her heaving bosom. Catching her eyes in the mirror I do not see fright reflected back at me but rather defiance.

"Mademoiselle Stern do you know who I am," I hiss like a snake into her ear.

Raising her hand to wrap hers around mine she speaks firmly and with steady tones, "I know perfectly well who you are or who you are pretending to be. Gossip and superstition is rife in theaters as you well know Monsieur le Phantom or perhaps you prefer Opera Ghost?"

"Phantom will do perfectly well. Upon closer acquaintance I will properly introduce myself and we shall become more…intimate," I pause deliberately and suggestively on my last word.

"Save your wickedness for someone else. I have been warned about your charming ways with women. You may be handsome and speak with a voice as smooth as hundred year old rum but all your wiles are wasted on me. I am saving myself for the oh so elusive Monsieur Erik Destler, the great man himself," she sounds so smug if it was not laughable I would set her back a peg or two.

There is no guile that I can see in her face or recognition showing by so much as a glimmer that she knows who I am. Can it be possible she is who she proclaims to be? Am I letting my own wishful imaginings lead me down a path to insanity?

As one last test I drop my face into the crook of her neck. Gabriella melted in my arms when I used to do this to her. Ella Stern's heart rate may have speed up but she gave no outward sign I affected her at all.

Letting her go I stop at the mirror to warn her, "Be warned Mademoiselle, I shall fight the good fight and I shall be the victor."

"I look forward to our next meeting Monsieur…uh…Monsieur Phantom," she tosses out in challenge just as the mirror closes behind me.

I do not leave immediately. With satisfaction I watch as she picks up the rose and brings it to her nose. A smile creeps across her lips as she brushes the velvety petals of my offering over puckered lips. So she is not as immune as she would have me believe. I am going to enjoy her battle against the inevitable. I will not lose again. She has come back to me and I intend to keep her this time.

An unexpected visitor is wandering around my domain. Luckily I no longer have any lethal traps as I would hate to be responsible for Antoinette's premature journey to the great beyond. It does not need the intellect of a genius to know what has her risking her neck to find me.

Hurrying ahead down a different tunnel I slip into one of my hidden panels and take a short cut that takes me slightly ahead of my wandering companion. If she is startled to see me looming out of the darkness into the faint reach of her lantern's light she does well to hide it from me.

"Erik I have been wandering aimlessly down here ever since I tried to get into Ella's room and found her door locked and no answer to my knock," she huffs out her accusation.

"Well if you knocked then it was either before or after I paid my visit. I will not take offence that you immediately surmised I am the culprit," I say with just enough sting in my words and tone to refute what I said.

"Erik I am warning you, stay away from her. She is not Gabriella. Do not confuse the two," she speaks but I choose not to hear.

"I paid a visit to my newest cast member in my capacity as head of this opera house. I am duty bound to welcome all under my employ," I am almost fooled by my own piety.

"There are at least a thousand employees working here on any given day. How many have you met carrying a rose and box of chocolates?" I cannot deny her accusation so I will ignore it.

I do not leave before I issue a warning of my own, "Stay out of my way Madame. I do not wish to harm you but I will not be stopped by anything or anyone."

With a whirl of my cap I step back into my familiar dark world. I have plans to make, a woman to woo and seduce.

For the next two weeks I visit my star's dressing room bringing small trinkets which she pretends to turn her nose up at until after I leave then she pounces on them like a cat would a mouse.

Ella (Gabriella's POV)

Upon first getting the invitation to audition for the lead role at L'Opéra Populaire my mind refused to accept what the written word alluded to. Already some anonymous benefactor took on the charge of paying my medical bills and for the care I received outside the scope of normal daily responsibilities of the hospital's staff.

Contact through a lawyer is the only evidence I have that I am not imagining my good fortune. Not knowing who I am or where I came from is a very frightening proposition indeed. Would anyone in similar circumstances refuse such a generous gift as my unknown patron gave me? Whoever it is has asked nothing from me other than I train my voice for the operatic stage. At that time I did not even know if I could sing a note without causing some catastrophic disruption. Imagine my relief when my tutor told me how impressed he was with my natural talent.

Arriving here I was met with looks varying from shock to outright horror. Curiosity fell in the middle somewhere between the two. Madame Giry or Antoinette as I am to call her, greeted me with what can only describe as cautious acceptance.

Gradually I learned just why everyone looked at me as if they saw a ghost. It seems I look like the former diva, Gabriella Star. I must say I got a tingle the first time I said the name out loud. Gracious me if half what everyone is reporting as the gospel truth then no wonder the more superstitious of the lot cross themselves when they have need to pass by me if no other avenue is available to avoid being within touching distance of me.

I have to say I felt more intrigued than put off by all the stories of the mysterious Opera Ghost and Phantom. Sometimes the lines between the two are blurred so that it is not clear if we have not one but two supernatural hauntings.

Fortuitously Antoinette warned me that a man dressed in all black attire wearing a mask might pay me a visit. She did not exactly say she thought him benevolent but did not indicate he might be malevolent either. She did neglect to say he would be stepping into my room via a mirror.

Every day after rehearsal I kept expecting to have this otherworldly visitor but each day left me undisturbed and mildly disappointed. My pique increased the longer I went unnoticed by either the maestro everyone raved about or the opera house specters. According to the chorus girls and ballet corps the maestro is a cross between Machiavelli, Casanova and the Greek god Apollo.

Such descriptions were bound to ignite my female interest. The longer the three stayed away the more I wanted to meet them all. Since ghosts nor phantoms may own anything in the real world my real life interest featured the man of power behind the opera I am performing in at present. No one can control their dreams and I must say mine are wickeder than my experience is worthy to dream. I cannot say for certain I am pristine but feel I am not far from it.

Goodness gracious the night of my first performance I finally got my wish to meet at least one of my prime targets. Phantom? Oh no, I say seducer of virgins and teacher to the rest. How I remained coolly collected with all the heat building between us is something quite extraordinary. If he had stayed one minute longer I would have fallen at his feet, literally. He made me that weak by his mere presence in the room but intensified his power over me when he touched me.

As my unannounced visitor left he said he would visit me again and I did not know if I should take that as a promise or a threat. Either way I looked forward to seeing him again. Forget the elusive Erik Destler, I will settle for Monsieur le Fantome despite what I have said.

I nearly fainted when I found a note propped on my vanity informing me I would be receiving a visit from my very own phantom. I shivered when I read it. He promised that no matter how many men crossed my doorstep he would be the last to leave.

Keeping to his word the last admirer to leave my dressing room at night was a man I could only describe as hypnotic or maybe a better word is a drug. Each time I see him I am left wanting more. Have I ever craved a man's lips to press hotly against mine? Did my heart ever pound with the drumbeat of some trible mating ritual when some other man came into my sight? I do not believe so. I am entranced and can do nothing to save myself if saving is what I need.

Antoinette has guessed who visits me when my door is locked. That first time I did not lock it but every time since the key has been turned on this side of the lock. I cannot push the horde of admirers and well-wishers out fast enough.

Something about all of this at times appears to be familiar. I feel at ease with everyone especially my new found admirer who is a person I am told I should fear. What I feel thrumming along my veins and heating unmentionable places on my body is a far cry from fear.

My last guest has barely stepped across my dressing room threshold when the mirror swishes open. As has become my habit I sit at my vanity brushing my hair. Lord how his eyes seem to eat me alive. All that passion burning holes into my skin thrills me like nothing I have ever experienced before. I hope once he makes his move to seduce me completely I am able to met passion with passion.

"Mademoiselle Stern I should like for you to come with me below to my home," he extends the invitation but it sounds more like a command. If he but knew I am his to command we could dispense with all these childish games. On second thought not so childish after all as he comes to place his hands on my shoulders. For once he does not have on the thick leather gloves. I thought he might have some disfiguring on his hands as well as his face. Now I can see he has perfectly formed fingers that are long and sensuous as they glide along my bared skin.

When I try to speak my voice is thick with all the sensations he is bringing to boiling point inside of me.

"I…I should like that very much and I think we may dispense with formalities. You may call me Ella and I shall call you…" I paused, waiting for him to reply with his own name.

"Erik, you may call me Erik," he says with a curious inflection. I feel as if I should know something important has been imparted but I am too focused on this man and how he makes me feel.

"Erik," I whisper trying the name out on my tongue. I like the sound and taste of it. A flash of something startles me for an instant then is gone. For that instant I saw Erik and I embracing passionately. Perhaps I am reflecting my wishes from my subconscious.

Taking his hand I feel safe and unafraid as we enter a world of musky damp air lit by only one candle. Along the way I see many wall sconces but none are lit. Somehow I feel we could be in total darkness and we would know where we were going. Him being able to that I understand but not me. It is a puzzle.

Coming to a crossing of tunnels I am automatically drawn to the right and he goes left. When I look at him questioningly he supplies an answer that should have given me more food for thought had I been paying attention.

"That way is a shorter distance to my home but this direction will take us to a landing where I keep a gondola. If you prefer to walk we can go that way," he offers courteously but I clearly know which one I would prefer.

"Oh no, please let us ride in the boat. I have always wanted to ride along in your boat," the slip of the tongue brings his candle closer to my face so he can see me more clearly. I am certain I have not come down into the lower levels of the opera house and I surely would remember if I had seen the underground lake.

Inside my head something is pushing to make itself known. I am not threatened in any way. On the contrary I feel as if whatever my inner mind has to impart to me is very important.

Bobbing along following the bends and turns of the lake I lay back shifting into a comfortable position. Nothing is more interesting than watching Erik pole along with his muscles and manliness perfectly displayed for my leisurely inspection.

Closing my eyes I once again see us kissing as lovers do. He is not forcing me to participate. On the contrary, I can see my hands roaming over him in a way only familiarity will allow.

Befuddled by my overly stimulated senses Erik practically has to lift me from the boat as I feel fluid as warm honey.

Whatever I expected a man's home below ground to be is not what I saw in front of me. All of this seems so familiar and yet that cannot be. Erik shows me around stopping every so often as if waiting for something. All I can offer is compliments for his taste. I am not pleased when he informs me a woman decorated his home. The way he spoke of her it is someone who has a special place in his heart. I know it cannot be Christine nor do I think Antoinette would have taken on that task. They do not have that sort of arrangement.

Throughout the evening I am plied with fine wine, entrancing music and the natural male allure Erik exudes in abundance. That man has sensuous marked from head to foot and is so unaware of it as to be almost shy of women. Perhaps shy is not the correct word. Maybe unsure is the better description.

He does not keep me late even though I wanted to stay. Rehearsals will be the usual grueling day long necessary torture as changes are always being made.

After that night Erik took me to his home every evening keeping me later and later until I did not want to leave at all. Only his sense of honor kept me chaste. Lurid dreams filled my nights as well as those strange flashes of events that I do not recall but the woman going through them looks exactly like me.

So gradually I did not notice it happened Erik began to call me Gabriella. The name did not feel unfamiliar or strange. It fit. As I accepted more and more of this other woman's memories as my own a transition came over me. It was as if the two of us merged.

Feeling everyone would think I am losing my mind I kept this new turn of events to myself. I hinted to Erik for information but he kept his lips firmly closed on the subject. Everyone else crossed themselves then scuttled away as if I had mentioned some unholy entity.

Not being well acquainted with anyone other than Erik I could not seek council from anyone. Worry over my sanity took its toll. I lost weight, became a shadow of my former self. Erik pampered me with offerings of delicacies but nothing took my interest away from the inner turmoil that raged inside of me.

More and more I felt like this Gabriella person and less and less like Ella. Where before I felt comfortable and safe, now I felt real terror fearing I was losing my mind and soul to the ghost of another woman. Erik must be experiencing the same thing for several times he has slipped and called me Gabriella only to stop to see if I took notice of his mistake. Even more bizarre is I answered him without any hesitation. Her name coming from Erik's lips seemed natural as did my response and ease with the mistake.

On Christmas Eve the opera house closed until the New Year so everyone could travel home to be with families. I had no family so Erik and I planned to spend our holiday together. I even talked him into letting me hire an open carriage so we could ride through the park and see all the newly fallen snow.

Erik had shown me his world now I wanted to show him mine. We had so much we could share with one another it might just take a lifetime to reveal everything.

Our ride could not have been more perfect. Erik confessed he had not seen Paris from a carriage and definitely not during any holiday festivities. Not many were out at the late afternoon hour and we rode around mile after mile content to be together whether in silence or pointing out something of interest.

The witching hour of midnight drew near and I knew Erik would be ready to return me to my room. Tonight I did not wish to go to a cold empty bed. I am not sure whether I am ready for sharing Erik's bed in the conventional connotation of the phrase but I do want to sleep beside him and have his face be the first thing I see when I open my eyes.

His arguments against me staying are half-hearted at best. His lonely bed is no less welcoming than mine. With seeming reluctance he gives in. The quick way he readied the bath for me and fetched my nightwear spoke volumes about my welcome if I had any doubts.

Freshly bathed and smelling of Erik's bath salts I crack the door open. To my surprise Erik is on top of the covers dressed for bed. Covered from head to toe in a black robe he reminds me of one of those creatures of darkness I once heard about at some time or other, not that I am comparing him to those bloodsucking undead but his dress and the way his hands are crossed on his chest suggest a…well it suggests a corpse. I have heard Erik described as being corpselike. I have no idea what idiot started that false rumor but he needs a good pair of glasses.

"Where did you…" I start to ask when he answers before I can finish my sentence.

"I went above and took the liberty of using one of the baths being unused at present," he does not open his eyes or indicate he is interested in carrying on a conversation. Well perhaps he just…just wishes to get on with it.

Nervously I remove my robe and still Erik remains lying with his eyes closed. Taking notice of the flush beginning to stain his cheeks I look closer and see the glint of his lovely green eyes through the slit of his lids. At least now I know sleep is not on the agenda for a while at least.

Feeling emboldened by his obvious desire for me I place my hand on his chest and begin fiddling with the buttons. One, then two, then three are undone allowing my hand to slip inside the silky cloth to feel short springy hair. I know I have gone too far when I graze my hand over a male nipple and Erik growls in warning, "Ella."

He does not frighten me one bit so I continue on regardless of whether I am being fair to test his resolve not to engage in any intimacies other than a little petting.

My world is turned topsy-turvy when he flips over to straddle his leg over mine imprisoning my lower body so I cannot get away if indeed that is something I even thought about, which it wasn't. Thinking is a process denied me when his lips crush down to cover mine in a masterful exchange of passion.

Images begin flashing inside my head. I do not know if they are real or imagined and my mind is far too rattled to make sense of anything at the moment other than the man I love and hold most dear is kissing me with unreserved passion and I am lying here like a marble statue.

"Gabriella, tell me this is what you want. I have waited so long and cannot bear to wait another day to know you will be mine body and soul," he groans as kisses are reined over my face, neck and shoulders.

I did not need to think twice. I belonged to Erik just as I believed he belonged to me. Upon admitting this to myself I felt something shifting inside of me, something leaving and then something else taking its place. For the first time in a long while I felt whole.

The name Gabriella floated around inside my head in a soft litany. I felt something give way inside of me. Along with this inner shifting came the feeling of a soft outer influence leading me to see all the hidden images inside my mind.

I am so caught up in this revelation I cease to respond to Erik. For the few minutes it takes for my past life to be revealed to me I lie still beside Erik with my chest heaving.

With clarity and a surety that makes no sense I know I am Gabriella. How or why I won't question as this second chance to be with Erik I will not let go of easily. If I have to fight my namesake, the angel Gabriel I will have my life with Erik, a life denied us by Joseph Buquet taking my life.

For whatever reason God or whatever powerful entity rules the universe has deemed me worthy of receiving such a precious gift.

My destiny is to be with Erik just as I have known all along. I was meant to be his saving grace all those years ago but met an untimely death at the hands of Joseph Buquet.

I shiver as I remember looking down and seeing my earthly body being covered with damp earth in an unmarked grave. Two other older graves were beside mine. I can see a younger version of Erik doing what he can to make these unmarked graves seem less lonely. I can feel his sadness and bewilderment. He had known of me. He had seen me and took a fancy to me. If I had not died he would have found the courage to approach me.

For so many reasons I silently damn my murderer to hell. So much of my life or afterlife has been wasted trying to right the wrongs in the world. Maybe not wasted, as I will now have a lifetime with Erik.

Not one second more of my time here on earth will be wasted on a man not worthy of a thought. I will think only of the wonderful man who loves me and who I love with all my heart.

Rolling onto my side I touch Erik's face with my fingertips. I trace over each feature with a loving caress. Leaning over him I command huskily, "Kiss me Erik."

"You need only ask Ella my love or simply look at me as you are now to have me groveling at your feet," he says as he rises up to lean over me.

"Gabriella. I know I am Gabriella. Don't ask me how I know just yet. It is too new and confusing. For now just make love to me Erik and let us shut out the world," I beg him desperately as I am not anxious to leave our private world. Who knows what will happen with the rise of the sun in the morning?

"My dear sweet love that is exactly what I had planned for us but now I am reconsidering. I want our first time to be as man and wife. You deserve that and I can hardly believe I am going to say this but I believe I deserve it too," his words are filled with passion but also a little wonder.

I start to protest then see the truth of what Erik says. We will spend the night talking with long moments of exploration. It may test our resolve but between the two of us we should have enough restraint.

Talk for now is set aside so we may begin a moment of exploration. There are other ways to fulfill passion or so I have heard. Will it not be heavenly to seek them out with Erik?

**Unseen and Unheard**

Three angels watch over the two lovers. There is joy mixed with sadness. Their dreams of love were cut short by a fiendish murderer. Now they only wish to help others fulfill their dreams and succeed in finding the path that will lead them to their destiny.

"Claire I am sorry you couldn't stay. Her life is not yours to live," Marianna says with real pain for Ella's loss.

"Don't be sorry Marianna. I am just grateful for that short gift. My life was far too short to appreciate how fragile mortals are. If I played some small part in allowing Gabriella and Erik find one another again I would do whatever it takes. He is meant for greatness and with a loving woman like Gabriella at his side he will fullfil that promise," Claire smiles fondly upon the couple oblivious they are being observed by otherwordly beings. Angels or ghosts does it matter?

"Let us return to our heavenly home so we may watch as Erik becomes who he was destined to be," Claire says with only slight envy for the woman she allowed to come to terms with going from ghost to having life, precious life.

And so it went. Erik and Gabriella founded a school for the arts as well as a place where deserving souls could find a niche in life even if the circumstance of their birth would normally have them cast aside as unworthy of notice. No frailty or affliction ever was turned away but instead those poor dregs of humanity were given back their dignity and thus contributed to society in very profound ways.

Erik and Gabriella were blessed with a second legacy, their five children. Each special in their own way and loved no matter what talent they had or lacked. The world was very blessed on that special Christmas just as it was all those many centuries ago when a special child was born to save the world.

**A/N: I hope it didn't end too corny. I wanted something different and unusual. Was I successful? **


End file.
